


Jacob in Wonderland

by nightmares06, PL1



Series: Brothers Found [4]
Category: Supernatural, The Borrowers - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Beer, Borrower Sam, Casa Erotica, Case Fic, Crack, Drinking, Flying, G/T, GT, Gas 'N Sip, Gen, Horror, Macrophilia, Micro, Microphilia, Protective Big Brother, Sass, Shrinking, Size Kink, Snark, Sprite, Sprites, TINY - Freeform, Tiny sam, Unaware, Vore, Wings, forest, giant, giant tiny - Freeform, gianttiny, horror story, macro, magazine, mushroom, pocket sam, protective little brother, shrank, shrink, tiny jacob, unaware giant, wing - Freeform, wood sprite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:16:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 74
Words: 221,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12028929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmares06/pseuds/nightmares06, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PL1/pseuds/PL1
Summary: Did you know thatyouandDean-Oare the first humans in over a generation to actually manage to befriend little guys like Sam and Bowman? I mean, sure. Dean had a bit of a leg up there with Sam actually being his brother, but there have been other families in the past split by size like that and they never bothered with each other again.Ofcourseyour life is a game. Everyone’s life is a game. And the name of the game?Survival.





	1. And So It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> _About a year ago, we started an experiment._
> 
> _What happens if you take PL1’s detail, her wonderful, beautiful details that can make an entire world burst out of the pages, and tell her to go nuts, do it all, all the details, as many of the details. Then you take my own talent for suspense, for making your heart pound, drawing out all the terror and making it real and heartstopping, and let me take out all the stops, do it all, as graphically as I’ve ever done._
> 
> _Mix well._
> 
> _So, what we have here is a horror story. Her detail combined with my suspense. We took out all the stops, mixed our two styles until you can’t tell where one stops and one begins. Because there’s nowhere in the story that only one of us had a hand in._
> 
> _Read at your own risk._
> 
> _Please be advised. This story will contain absolutely fucking adorable cutes and fluff. It will also contain graphic scenes that will disturb you and keep you from sleeping (both of us had nightmares about it during the course of writing). Or make you lose your lunch. All chapters will be rated mature, don’t waste your time asking me to lower that. It’s not gonna happen. We wanted to see what we could do with a supernatural gt horror story, and I think you’ll be pleased with the results._
> 
> _If you have a squeamish stomach, please stop here and don’t read on._
> 
> _For everyone else, hold onto your seat belts. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride._
> 
> _**What you may find within:** _
> 
> _Graphic descriptions of violence._  
>  Cursing.  
> Disturbing imagery, including g/t themes not normally explored in our work.  
> Twisty mind games (the best kind).
> 
> _**What you will not find:** _
> 
> _Anything sexual._  
>  Nudity.
> 
> _For further information on what’s in each chapter, please read the tags at the bottom of that chapter. If you need anything tagged, please let me know._

 

* * *

**SUPERNATURAL**

* * *

  
"Are you sure this will work?" Bowman asked, his expression thoroughly skeptical on top of the incredulous tone he'd already adopted.  
  
Jacob rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Bowman. Yes, it will work, I've explained phones to you before. You've  _seen_  me use it before." Sometimes the sprite really dug his heels in about human technology. Sure, he'd only known humans  _existed_  for a short time, but it shouldn't be so hard to believe that telephones worked. And yet the sprite seemed convinced half the time that Jacob was talking to himself when he used the older flip phone.  
  
Bowman flickered his wings in annoyance. "Alright but if it  _doesn't_  work then we're getting you closer to the village for safety," he determined. Standing across the open phone from Jacob, it was easy to see the resolve and concern in his bright green eyes and the slight furrow in his brow. In fact, it was a lot easier to see everything about Bowman's expression than Jacob was used to, and honestly it was all he could do not to freak out about that.  
  
Jacob wasn't supposed to be the same height as the four-inch wood sprite, after all.  
  
Sure, he was still just barely taller and far bulkier in build than the lean, willowy Bowman. But at the same time, Jacob was somehow  _sprite-sized_. One minute he'd sat down well outside the village to relax and eat some of his lunch. The next, the grass was almost taller than him, his wallet and phone that he'd set beside him might as well be enormous statues, and Bowman had fluttered around high above Jacob's head in alarm and panic, wondering where his giant friend had vanished to.  
  
Until he caught sight of Jacob down on the ground, of course. Then he'd both laughed and demanded to know what kind of new "human magic" was going on here. Jacob wished he knew.   
  
Oh, how he wished he knew.  
  
He'd become familiar with this area of the forest in the last several months. Ever since he'd met the wood sprite, Bowman, while on a case with Sam and Dean, Jacob had returned to Wellwood to visit a number of times. Sure, the case itself hadn't started off great; with Bowman trapped and under suspicion of the strange animal attacks happening in the woods, anything could have happened. With Bowman's iron willpower to snark at all comers, it was a wonder they got anything figured out in time to realize that Bowman was the  _target_  of the attacks, not their orchestrator.  
  
Now, the familiar forest might as well be on a different planet. Tall, proud trees, kept healthy and well-groomed by the wood sprites, had become colossal, stretching unfathomably high into the air, their branches laden in rustling green leaves longer than Jacob was tall. The grass and foliage on the ground, usually a plush surface to walk on, was now a jungle of leaves and blades of grass as wide as his hands. The smell of the earth and the fallen plant debris filled the air this close to the ground, and the endless march of ants was much more visible. Birds that flitted by overhead might as well be pterodactyls, and even a squirrel chattering on a branch looked like it could throw its weight around.  
  
The village on the other side of the stream (which had transformed into a swift river), looked as peaceful as ever. Only now, it was far away and high up on the branches. Jacob used to be able to stand in front of Bowman's house and have to kneel to look in the tiny, unevenly shaped windows. Now he'd have to climb several flights of stairs grown in an elegant spiral around the trunk of the tree to get to it.  
  
After the initial shock of finding himself  _sprite-sized,_  Jacob had convinced Bowman to help him drag his phone onto some leaves they laid out flat. Getting the thing folded open was a battle with the old springs and the simple weight of the device compared to the two of them, but they managed. All that effort, and Jacob could usually do it with the simple motion of a thumb, flipping open his phone like it hardly weighed a thing. Now, he was positive, it weighed more than he did.  
  
He remembered Dean's number at least. Jacob had to really lean into the buttons to get his pressure to register, but soon the digits were all listed on the phone screen, waiting demurely for him to send them to the cell tower.   
  
Jacob hesitated before taking that last step and leaning on  **SEND** ; up until now, he'd merely had a view of trees and birds and squirrels at his new-- hopefully not permanent-- size. Calling Dean meant he'd be asking someone over  _six feet tall_  to come to his aid. With Jacob standing just over four inches, that would a huge shock.  
  
But, he had to stop and remind himself, Dean was probably the best person to trust with this situation. Dean's younger brother, Sam, was this size, after all. Not from the same thing, as he understood it (thankfully, since they had never found any leads on getting Sam back to his natural size), but still. Dean knew how to deal with smaller people better than anyone else. The guy would probably give Jacob endless shit about it (especially since Jacob had finally passed him in height just recently), but if anyone in the world could help, it was Dean and Sam Winchester.  
  
"Well? Prove that it works!" Bowman said, impatient as he stared at the device. Even when he'd seen Jacob using the phone, he never had a great angle on the object in action. He was convinced that Jacob was either joking with him, or that the device ran by magic. As Jacob pressed a button with a weird green symbol, Bowman watched the phone with eager curiosity. At least it was a momentary distraction from the fact that one of his best friends was almost a twentieth of his usual gigantic size.

* * *

The Winchesters were having a peaceful afternoon when the call came in.  
  
Sam was sitting on the edge of the nightstand in the room of their most recent motel,  _The Wandering Sword_  (when they’d been searching for a motel in the area Dean’s eyes had just lit right up at the sound of the motel’s name and that was it; they were booking a room). His journal was held open in his lap and he was putting in some notes on their most recent case, a simple salt and burn that was an easy in, easy out case. The only snag that had happened was when the vengeful spirit appeared while Dean was digging up her grave. She’d gone straight for Sam, gigantic ghostly hands ready to slam into him with a wave of cold and anger, but his four inch tall stature didn’t mean he was unprepared for the dangers of such a case. A simple move with his iron screw sent her packing and gave Dean the time to finish.  
  
Now they were between cases, searching out strange happenings in the towns they rolled through in Dean’s Impala. A few days spent catching up on some good movies and good beers wouldn’t go unappreciated. It felt like there were more monsters cropping up all the time.  
  
Of course, they always had reliable backup they could call. Jacob, the reason they were even back together in this strange, mixed-up-size life, was always willing to help out. He was one of the few humans that Sam knew, and one of his and Dean’s closest friends. Sam would trust Jacob with his life any day, and considering he was smaller than a finger for Jacob, that was saying a lot.  
  
A loud guitar riff cut through the room, startling Sam in his seat and nearly causing him to scribble across his current page. They rarely got any phone calls, so it was a shock to hear. Sam turned towards the bathroom, where Dean was brushing his teeth (or so Sam assumed from the noises he could hear). “Hey, Dean!” he hollered, working hard to project his soft voice across the gap between them. “Phone!”  
  
After a muffled reply from Dean, Sam got up and wandered over to the phone, one of those new smartphones with a touch screen that made it easy for him to use at his size. He smiled when he saw it was Jacob, but before he could hit the button to answer, Dean was stomping noisily over, trying to wipe his face off with a towel. Sam made a face. His experience with motel cleaning crews didn’t make him eager to use any of the towels in the room.  
  
Dean’s hand swept down, scooping up the phone while Sam was offered his other hand in a far more careful motion. Sam climbed on as his brother sat heavily down on the bed, managing his password with some difficulty. After a month, he was still trying to pick up how to use the smartphone. Sam had adapted to it far faster.  
  
Finally in, Dean hit speakerphone and answered with a grin, holding Sam near the phone. “Hey, it’s the original Sasquatch,” he quipped. “What’s the occasion?”

* * *

Bowman flinched when the sound came through the phone, his eyes widening in astonishment at the voice coming through the speakers. Jacob smirked; his phone wasn't even that new, but Bowman might as well be looking at the most advanced, revolutionary thing in the world. He squinted at the device, his leafy green wings twitching with curiosity that he'd completely given up on concealing.  
  
"That's really Dean?!" Bowman blurted, looking over at Jacob.  
  
Jacob chuckled, still wondering how he'd broach the subject about not exactly living up to the Sasquatch name at the moment. "Yeah, that's Dean," he replied. Then, he decided to address the brothers on the phone, since they were his only hope of having someone that might be able to fix his very odd predicament.  
  
"So, hey guys, I'm pretty sure I found you a case," he continued cautiously.  
  
"There's no blasted way they actually hear you right now," Bowman chimed in again, looking for the gimmick. It had to be some kind of fake recording of Dean's voice and Jacob was just flying in circles here. He knew humans could record images and sounds perfectly.  
  
But really, actually talking to someone who was far away? Instant communication across such vast distances didn't seem possible, no matter how much of the "electricity" stuff Jacob tried to explain to him was available.  
  
"Bowman ..." Jacob sighed, shaking his head. "Okay, so yeah, our friend the sprite is here too. He can vouch for me."  
  
“ ‘Vouch’ for you?” Sam repeated in confusion. “Why would he need to vouch for you?” He glanced up at Dean, meeting the worried green gaze above. Jacob’s voice seemed… off, from how it normally sounded over the phone lines. They’d talked to him on the phone enough. “Jacob, is your phone acting up? Your voice sounds a bit… quiet.” Even as he asked he had a bad feeling that wasn’t it. Bowman sounded normal. Usually he was scolding Jacob or declaring similar disbelief in the background, and his voice sounded the way it should.  
  
Dean shifted impatiently, trying to keep the phone near Sam for the conversation. “And what kind of case did you find?” he asked, picking right up when Sam quieted down. “Did something happen to the sprites? Is that why Bowman’s with you?” After being welcomed so warmly in the village, Dean wasn’t about to let anyone try and take advantage of it. The sprites were such a peaceful community, far happier than the average human town, and he knew how easily even one human could ruin that if they discovered the peaceful haven. The sprites may have had a few stalwart defenders among them, but at heart they were still simple pacifists who weren't truly prepared for a fight. Not the kind of fight a determined human could bring them.  
  
He knew that all too well after he’d almost lost his memory on a case in the forest, coming close to turning against Sam and Jacob and the others. It didn’t matter if he only got a second to attack, he could have demolished the entire community.  
  
Jacob winced, still hesitant to reveal the real reason he had to call. For one, it had completely blindsided him. That by itself was embarrassing. "No, no, there's nothing wrong with the sprites here as far as I can tell," he reassured them. That would be the worst timing. He would be just as powerless as any of the wood sprites to stop anything that was threatening them, considering four inches was  _tall_  for them.  
  
Bowman, it seemed, wasn't going to be patient with exposing the truth. "Jacob's  _sprite-sized,_ " he announced, sounding both annoyed and amused at the same time. "I thought the blasted giant disappeared but he's still here. Not a giant."  
  
There was a pause as Jacob just threw Bowman an exasperated look. The sprite just raised an eyebrow at him as if to dare him to argue. It was the truth, after all. Unfortunately.  
  
"That's about it," Jacob finally confirmed. "So, to answer your first question ... the original sasquatch is not feeling like much of a sasquatch at the moment. Safe to say I could use some help figuring this one out."  
  
Dean and Sam wore identical expressions of shock at that, eyebrows right up at their hairlines. "You're  _sprite-sized,_ " Dean repeated carefully, staring down at his own 'sprite-sized' brother standing on his hand. It was almost impossible to imagine Jacob at the same scale after all the cases they'd been through together.   
  
He had no idea if he should be worried or amused. After Jacob had smugly passed Dean in height by a few inches, he'd longed to be the tallest again (even though he knew that title would belong to Sam between the two brothers regardless; Dean wouldn't feel right trying to take that one victory from his pint-sized brother). He settled with a smirk for the moment. He'd decide whether or not to be worried once he got to Jacob's side.  
  
Sam leaned over the row of Dean's casually curled fingers, trying to get closer to the phone. "You're trying to get the same run of luck as me, at this rate," he joked.  
  
"So," Dean interrupted whatever else Sam was going to come up with, "are you near the sprite village? We're only..." he did some quick calculations in his head based on the Impala speeding as much as possible, "about three hours out from you. We can be at the forest edge by noon, and figure out this... size deficiency... you got going on."  
  
Jacob definitely  _heard_  the tone in Dean's voice. There was a smirk bigger than Dallas on the hunter's face right now, and Jacob knew it. Not that he wouldn't expect it. Perhaps it could be considered funny, if he weren't the butt of the joke. He wouldn't say anything to offend the folks who were used to being this small, but... he definitely liked being tall better.  
  
That damned shit-eating grin on Dean’s face was probably  _bigger_  than he was right now.  
  
Bowman was over there trying not to smirk, too, and failing spectacularly. Jacob rolled his eyes. "Yeah, 'size deficiency.' That's what we'll call this," he said wryly.  
  
"Of course he  _still_  has to be taller than me," Bowman complained, still baffled that Sam and Dean could really hear him talking. And they were three hours away in that speedy beast of an Impala!  
  
"I guess it's official, then. You're taller than Sammy," Dean said as he stood to get ready. It was hard to forget seeing Bowman and Sam at the correct scale a year ago in the Spirit dream. He put Sam and the phone on the table by his laptop so he could shovel his scattered belongings into his bag.  
  
Jacob had a turn to grin. "Only by a bit," he pointed out. Then, "I'm near the village, yeah. I'm guessing I'll have to get over there before Bowman freaks out about squirrels or something but ... well I probably won't miss your arrival."  
  
"You know me," Dean quipped lightly. "I'm just the life of the party. You know you can't wait to see me arrive." Despite his words, he couldn't help but worry as well, a fact he was trying to keep hidden. Unlike Bowman, Jacob had no wings to use to escape any animals out there. And unlike Sam, he wasn't used to being small. At least Sam could put his expert climbing skills to use finding hand- and footholds to scramble up a tree if he had to. Dean doubted Jacob would fare any better than Dean himself at that type of venture.  
  
"You get yourself to safety, alright? We need our hunting buddies all in one piece, downsized or not. That's what's important here." He moved on to packing up Sam's belongings, a small bed and desk Bobby had found for them after discovering the small Winchester was still alive. In fact, it had been Bobby's gentle prodding that had galvanized Dean into building a Sam-sized panic room under the seat of the Impala, so there was a safe haven for Sam and Bowman if they ever needed it. There was a variety of threats out there for guys their size, and Dean was determined to give his brother every advantage he could provide.  
  
"Yeah, I'll... I'll do that," Jacob answered uncertainly. He glanced over at the stream. There were supposedly stepping stones for the flightless sprites to cross the stream safely, but he couldn't imagine them being easy. The sprites grew up with wings and judged their entire sense of balance on them. Jacob didn't have that kind of advantage.  
  
_If this is a party, then where's the beer?_  
  
"I'll get him to my house," Bowman said, recognizing that Jacob was at a loss for what to do. It was clear on his face and in the way he glanced around with both curiosity and trepidation. The human was used to being massive, after all, and this was well outside his comfort zone.  
  
Once assured that they'd meet up soon, Jacob managed to mash the  **END**  button on his phone. There would be no carrying it over the stream, so he left it with his wallet and let Bowman lead him towards a safe spot to cross the stream. With the sprite curious and cautious and amazed at the turn of events, Jacob found himself relaxing bit by bit. At least he had his friends to help him out.  
  
It was actually kind of fun to use all the same pathways the sprites did. They didn't have any sidewalks or anything that might disturb the growth of grass on the forest floor, but there were definite avenues that the sprites walked more often between the clumps of grass. And the stairs grown out of the trees, though winding and steep, were beyond cool to see this close and in such detail.  
  
By the time he made it up to Bowman's home in the pine tree, the sharp aroma of the encompassing tree filling the air, he felt a bit better. They could figure out what happened. In the meantime, Jacob could see the inside of a sprite house for the first time while he waited for the brothers to arrive.

* * *

Dean shook his head in bemusement as he ended the call. "Jacob, downsized," he said dryly. "What could possibly do that?" He dropped a hand next to Sam out of habit, his belongings packed up and ready to go.  
  
Sam shrugged as he scaled the easy slope. "For all we know, it could be the same witch that cursed  _me_  all those years ago," he pointed out. "She vanished, according to dad's journal. Maybe she knows he's connected to us somehow." If someone else faced the same curse that Sam did just for helping him ...  
  
Dean pursed his lips as he walked to the door. The moment his hand was on the doorknob, Sam slipped down under his collar, very used to staying hidden after a year together. "You think she'd really be that interested in us?" he asked as he stepped outside. With Sam out of sight, he appeared to be talking to himself, but he couldn't care less.  
  
"We don't know why she was so interested in us in the first place," Sam's voice piped up. "Mind if I check dad's journal out on the ride?"  
  
The instinct to shrug was strong, but Dean held back. "Sure." Everything was dumped into the back seat of the car before Dean situated himself in the driver's seat, his place for years. Getting back on the road in the Impala felt more like home than the various motel rooms he chose.   
  
Once Sam was settled on the middle part of the bench seat with the journal, Dean floored it towards the Wellwood.   
  
They were on their way.

[Artwork by mogadeer](https://mogadeer.deviantart.com/art/Com-Jacob-for-PL1-556672800)!


	2. Be Careful What You Wish For

While waiting for Sam and Dean to arrive, Jacob had plenty to explore just in Bowman's home. Everything was so different from human houses. The cozy little dwelling was nestled on the branch of a pine tree, and not a single doorway was perfectly symmetrical. There were no real corners to be found; only completely organic curves as the structure of the house seemed to follow the flow of the tree itself. It was amazing and Jacob wandered the little house in utter fascination. One doorway even leaned slightly as it accommodated a knot in the wood it was grown from.  
  
He never thought he'd have the opportunity to see something like this. He'd been friends with Bowman for a long time, ever since they'd worked together with Dean and Sam to fight off a lich. That undead bastard had brought a bunch of wolves to life with the aim of finding the sprite village so it could steal their life magic for its own twisted needs. Bowman had nearly succumbed to the life-sick monster before Dean saved the little guy. They'd all saved each other's lives at some point during that case, so it was little wonder that the snarky sprite had become such a good friend. He was a part of their team.  
  
Bowman's young cousin, Rischa, was both confused and delighted to meet him at a closer scale. The tiny girl was talented with the magic the sprites used. She had some kind of gift called the Voice, and it made her very perceptive indeed. When Jacob first entered the house she'd smiled and assured him that he didn't need to be afraid or worried. She'd known immediately it was on his mind. She'd told him once that the feelings and emotions (even the physical pain) of others danced around them and affected her the same way. If that was true, Rischa had felt Jacob's unnerved attitude as he approached the house and recognized it for what it was immediately.  
  
Of course, being able to look out on the village through a window, from  _inside_  one of the homes that dotted the trees ... it was a once-in-a-lifetime shot. Jacob didn't waste any of his complete awe. Wood sprites going about their business or simply enjoying the day flew through the air in lazy spirals or darted around higher branches, chasing each other and seeing whose wings were the fastest. It was an idyllic and beautiful little place that the sprites had made for themselves. It had a feeling of safety and contentment hovering over it, and Jacob found himself forgetting a lot of his initial nerves.  
  
He'd barely had a few bites of his lunch before getting dizzy. He thought he'd just passed out and would wake up fine with Bowman buzzing around his head with concern. It wasn't far off, except that Bowman had been flying high above Jacob, at the same scale and in a clear tizzy over what had happened to the huge human. Jacob's initial reaction had been shock, which gave way to nerves.  
  
Bowman's family took some of that tension away with how welcoming they were. Bowman's aunt, Candara, even gave him some sprite food-- a small pastry with berries and mint and sap. It was one of the strangest and most delicious things he'd ever had, and normally it would be smaller than his fingertip.  
  
At one point, sitting casually in the living room, the sprites all seemed to simultaneously notice the shiny metal zipper keeping his black hoodie (an article of clothing that seemed to provide endless entertainment to the nestlings when he was the right size, always hiding leaves and seeds in the hood or pockets) closed. Bowman had seemed so unduly fascinated by the simple workings of it, but then again Jacob always reminded himself that the sprites were so isolated from humans that Bowman didn't even know what they were when he met them.  
  
He'd thought Dean and Jacob were going to  _eat_  him. Now that Jacob was the same size, he definitely understood that worry a little better. He knew a human probably wouldn't do that, but to someone who had no idea and who grew up in a forest where the other wildlife  _did_  want to eat him ... it'd be scary.  
  
They'd all wanted to try the zipper, just to see it in action on their scale. Jacob grinned faintly as Rischa zipped up his hoodie while he crouched for her. Her golden eyes were full of wonder at the "human magic."  
  


* * *

  
Three hours later, the Impala whizzed past the quickee mart in town.  
  
Dean glanced to the side. “Y’know, we should pick up some drinks on our way back to the motel,” he mused out loud. “I’m pretty sure if we don’t get Jacob back to size he’s going to need one.”  
  
Sam winced at the thought. “Probably,” he agreed. It had taken him over a year to get adjusted to his new size as a child, and Jacob had lived human-sized far longer. If it was the same thing that had cursed Sam, he might  _not_  be able to get back to normal the way they were all hoping.  
  
With any luck, it wasn’t the same as Sam’s curse. That way they could get their hunting buddy back to normal and go on with their lives. At least Sam could accept the way he was. He had a reliable brother to count on at all times, friends and family who cared about him no matter how big he was, and he had a purpose-- saving people from the monsters that tried to harm or kill them. In his heart, he knew that was all he needed. He barely remembered what it was like to  _be_  a human, so he didn’t really know what he was missing. This was his life.  
  
Jacob though... his life was all built around being a human. His friends, his family... it would all change if he got stuck that way. Sam felt determination fill him. They'd find a way.  
  
They had to.  
  
In no time at all, Dean was pulling off the road and parking next to a reliable Mercury Cougar. The yellow Iowa Hawkeyes sticker on the back window gave it away as Jacob’s. It only took a moment before Dean had his supplies in hand, glancing up at the canopy for Bowman. With any luck, he was close by. Neither of them would be much good navigating to the village on their own. Usually Jacob was in charge of that after his years of camping experience.  
  


* * *

  
Bowman had left early to meet the brothers. It had been almost fun to see his normally-giant friend wandering his house at a sprite-like scale. Definitely weird, but fun. He was just so used to Jacob being beyond enormous, with just a single finger outmatching Bowman's size.  
  
Bowman might gripe about that size advantage all the time, but... he didn't  _really_  want his friend to be downsized. Jacob looked so out of place at just over four inches high-- still blasted tall, but tiny by comparison all the same.  
  
When Bowman finally heard the unmistakable growl of that Impala, he shifted on the branch he'd hidden on. Ever since Dean and Jacob had, well,  _kidnapped_  him almost a year back, Bowman had made a point of memorizing more of his forest than he'd known before. He was the only patrolsprite that knew anything of the areas beyond the fence. Finding the place where the humans put their 'cars' was easy, and he'd be able to lead Dean right back to the village with no issue.  
  
As the human swaggered his way into the treeline, Bowman finally revealed himself with a greeting. "You made it," he called, inching out from behind the leaves he'd hidden himself in. It never hurt to be safe when giants were about, after all.   
  
“Trust me, we wouldn’t miss it,” Dean reassured the sprite. And for more than just one reason. He and Sam would never leave Jacob hanging, and he had to admit, it would be interesting to see such a big guy downsized to Sam’s level. It was one thing to  _know_  that Sam was taller than him. It had been an entire other experience actually  _seeing_  his little brother towering over him.  
  
He hefted his bag, ready to move out. Sam was on his shoulder like normal, eager to get the show on the road. “Don’t worry ‘bout a thing,” Dean told the sprite as he started to head into the trees towards Bowman’s hiding spot. “We do this all the time. We’ll have him back to towering over all of us in no time, guaranteed.”  
  
Bowman nodded, unconcerned. They’d done some amazing things before. "The gossip has probably reached everyone back home now. I think Rischa took Jacob to see the village. She's been helping him avoid freaking out."  
  
Sam had to smirk. “Jacob always wanted to see the inside of your home,” he pointed out. “Maybe he should be careful what he wishes for next time. He definitely got it.”  
  
Bowman grinned, his amusement with the whole situation shining through. It was weird and concerning, but it was also kind of funny. Jacob was  _huge_  normally. Even taller than Dean, in the recent months. He'd actually grown so much since Bowman first met him that Bowman could have stood on his head back then and still not reached his later prodigious size. Sam and Dean together weren’t as tall as the younger human.  
  
"Yeah, he seems to be enjoying himself for the moment," Bowman agreed, fluttering off the branch once Dean reached him. He'd lead them straight there. Jacob had almost learned the route to the village just by visiting a few times. The human was fascinated with the village of Wellwood, and the sprites didn't mind his company.

[Artwork by QuackGhost!](https://quackghost.deviantart.com/art/C-Flight-560995173)  
  
 _We'll see how he deals with seeing a giant for the first time,_  Bowman mused. It could be very entertaining to see the guy react. Jacob may think he'd mentally prepared himself to see a full-sized human, but there was no practice for the real thing.  
  


* * *

  
Bowman led the way unerringly on what was growing into a familiar journey for the brothers. They’d returned to the village a few times to check up on the people they’d saved a year ago, making sure that it remained hidden. Sam enjoyed spending a bit of time around the people his own size as well, and Jacob and Bowman had become best friends despite the height difference and despite (or maybe because of) the sprite's tendency to argue with everything he could. Dean had to smile at the memory of Jacob telling him  _he’d_  need the practice with a four inch person because of Sam. Now they both had a best friend that fit in the palm of their hand.  
  
It took some time, but Dean passed through the metal gate that kept hikers and campers out of the heart of the forest, erected there by the family of one of Jacob’s friends. He’d never asked Jacob if he’d ever let his friend know what was out there.  
  
Somehow, Dean doubted it. More humans knowing the secret of the sprites meant more danger.  
  
Sam was quiet during most of the hike, content to just watch the passing scenery. Occasionally he’d call a question out to Bowman, continuing to build up his knowledge of the sprites and the Spirits that had created them. It was a fascinating history to hear, so different than humans. People like Sam didn’t even  _know_  where they were from, the details lost in time when most of their lives had been spent  _running_  from humans. One day he hoped to discover their past and find out what event in the world had resulted in an entire group disappearing under the floorboards and into the walls of human homes.  
  
The trickle of a stream alerted Dean to how close they were to the village. He shucked off his duffel during the last few steps. The small homes were visible in the trees from where they were and he started to pay careful attention to where he was walking. There was no way to know if there would be any sprite children nearby, and many of the smaller ones wouldn't have learned to fly on their little leafy wings yet. The duffel was dropped at the edge of the village before Dean entered. The last thing anyone needed was a huge-ass bag just lying around like that, possibly blocking off the small stairwells that spiraled up in the trees.  
  
Dean's arrival at the village wasn't a particular surprise to anybody. Word had traveled quickly that Jacob, the other giant human that had saved the village once, was somehow sprite-sized. No one knew how it happened, not even the only "expert" on humans that the sprites really had. Bowman Leafwing was as clueless as the rest of them (if also a bit entertained by his friend's predicament).  
  
With something that strange going on, it was assumed that the still-human-sized human would be coming to the village to investigate. Even so, when the duffel clattered loudly to the ground, the noise did cause a few sprites to falter in surprise, sending Dean stern looks before going about their business again. It was doubtful anyone missed his walking up, but giant steps were easier to ignore knowing the giants were safe.  
  
But really, that had been  _loud._  
  
Definitely loud enough that Jacob, who was back in Bowman's house after Rischa took him on a walk through the village, had no doubts that his friends had arrived. Rischa led him by the hand to the window, and indeed there was Dean, sauntering among the home trees with casual steps that Jacob knew were actually watched carefully. When visiting a village of people who considered four inches pretty tall, one had to be cautious.  
  
And Jacob was understanding why. Perspective might as well have slapped him in the face. Even off the ground, seeing Dean at this scale was intimidating at first. Jacob knew he could trust the guy with his life without question, but there was a small spark in him that said  _big_  was  _danger._  He understood keenly why Bowman had been so terrified the first time he saw the two of them. A simple glance at Dean was enough to see the power a human could hold over sprite-sized folk.  
  
With a few easy flaps, Bowman alighted on the porch of the house, drawing Dean's attention right to it. Jacob couldn't help himself. He backed off from the window as Bowman called the now enormous hunter over.  
  
Dean paused briefly, taking a second to scan the ground for any sprites nearby before strolling on over. Sam was climbing down his arm as soon as he put a hand on the porch while Bowman went inside. Neither of them wanted to waste any time, and Sam was probably drowning in curiosity to see Jacob.  
  
Once he was certain Sam wouldn't be tossed off if he moved, Dean leaned in to peer into the sprite home through one of the windows. He instantly caught sight of Jacob, standing just  _barely_  taller than Bowman. The kid had backed away from the window, giving Dean the chance to see him from head to toe. It was  _unreal._  Jacob was so small that he could barely catch sight of the tiny metallic zipper on the hoodie.  
  
“Didn’t your parents tell you to take your vitamins?” Dean asked, joking to try and push through the complete weird of the situation. “Hey Jacob.”  
  
The fact that the window was only big enough to see one of Dean's eyes was bizarre. Jacob truly kept expecting to wake up so he could throw out whatever rotten food he'd mistakenly packed for lunch. But, he was definitely there, with Bowman standing just barely shorter than him rather than palm-sized, and Sam wasn't far behind. And instead of absolutely tiny, Rischa was standing next to him looking like a completely average-sized child.  
  
It was Dean's comment that did it, though. This was definitely real. Jacob rolled his eyes, breaking out of the shocked reverie that came over him when a shadow had eclipsed the window. With a 'what can you do?' shrug, he replied, "Well, you know I skipped my wheaties just for today and this is what I'm dealing with. How's it going, guys? Bowman lead you back okay?"  
  
Bowman almost looked offended in his glare. "Hey! I lead you just fine! I lead everyone just fine!" he griped.  
  
Dean laughed. "Yeah, Bowman didn't get distracted once, or even earn himself pocket time today. I'd say he's pretty worried about you there. He wants his sasquatch buddy back."  
  
Jacob smirked. It was still easy to get a rise out of the sprite, miniaturized or not. That was a good thing, at least. He knew the brothers were staring at him, though; how could they not? Normally he was even bigger than Dean, which he was finding hard to believe now that he’d seen the sheer  _size_  of the hunter from this new scale. He shrugged again, a sense of exasperation in the motion. "So. Yeah. This is how my day's been going so far. Told you I had a case for ya."  
  
Sam walked over to the newly-miniaturized hunter and did a circle around him. "I'd say," he said, trying to shake the thought that they were just asleep again during the Spirit dream when he'd first seen Jacob and Dean on the same level. Dean's eye shattered that illusion for the three inside the house; if the Spirit had wanted to contact them, She would have them all standing the same size.  
  
Sam crossed his arms. "So you finally passed me and Bowman in height," he laughed, though concern was in his eyes. "I mean, even downsized you're still taller than us, so at least you have that."  
  
"You're gonna have to tell us everything that happened," commented Dean from outside, the customarily deep voice rumbling around them. "And show us where you were when you shrank. We can work it just like any other case. You just need to keep focused on that, okay?" He pulled away from the window for a moment to give them some space, but stood where he could still just see the figures inside. With them in Bowman's house he was slightly left out of the conversation.  
  
Jacob nodded, still amazed at the volume of Dean's voice. Just talking casually, and probably at a lower volume than usual, Dean was loud enough that Jacob could almost feel the floor vibrate under his shoes. It was amazing, but a little overwhelming. He knew he'd have to get over that, and soon, but  _damn._  There wasn't an instruction manual for being small.  
  
"I was just hanging around with the sprites, babysitting some nestlings, you know the usual. Went to the other side of the stream to sit and have some lunch."  
  
"And  _then_  he just blasted disappeared," Bowman interjected. He remembered barely having time to ask Jacob if he was okay, seeing the dizzy look on his face. And then his friend had shrunk so fast that he might as well have never been giant in the first place. Bowman didn't even see him right away.  
  
Jacob rolled his eyes. "Yes, I 'blasted disappeared' because, well, this," he gestured to himself with yet another shrug.  
  
He knew he'd have to go out there and face his friend head on. He was glad it was just Dean. This was freaky enough without having to deal with some gigantic stranger. Jacob took a terse breath and headed out onto the porch, getting it over with quickly, like tearing off a bandaid. He couldn't help but glance up at the giant that Dean was to him now, powering through the awe to point vaguely towards the stream. "I was over there. I actually called from there, and left my phone and wallet so you'll know pretty much exactly where I was."  
  
He rubbed the back of his neck, very self-conscious after his explanation. There truly wasn't anything more to the story that he knew of so far. He was glad that the others followed him outside, making it easier to remain chill in the presence of someone whose fingers were as big as his whole body. They were calm and casual around Dean and he should be too. This was one of his best friends, not a danger.  
  
Dean straightened as everyone filed out onto the porch, Sam and Bowman hovering uncertainly near their friend. It was  _weird_  seeing Jacob standing on a porch and still coming nowhere near Dean's eye level.  
  
He frowned as he mulled over Jacob's explanation, knowing Sam would be memorizing every word as they went. He was damn good at putting details together and figuring out what was going on, faster than Dean some days.  
  
A quick glance to the side showed him that Jacob's phone and wallet were still there. No one had disturbed the spot and there weren't many animals that would show an interest in items that weren't associated with tasty snacks.  
  
Remembering how timid Sam had been around him in the beginning, Dean reached forward carefully. He didn't want to startle Jacob right back into the house after the guy had decided to trust him.  _Just take it slow. We've handled stranger things before._  
  
The fact that none of these 'stranger things' rose to mind disturbed him slightly.  
  
He bridged his fingers against the porch, giving Jacob the option of getting on. "We can take this as slow as you want, kid," Dean reassured the smaller hunter. A strange urge struck Dean to poke him to see if he was real, but he pushed it aside. That could be saved for when Jacob was more comfortable around him. Anyone could read the nervousness in the normally chill guy.   
  
"You know I've got steady hands."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ends every chapter on a part that shouldn't be ominous in any way*
> 
> **Please see Chapter 1 for all warnings, and check the tags!**
> 
> **Next:** September 17th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love, we're looking for what feedback we can get with this lil experiment!


	3. Taking Action

[Artwork by iamthetwickster!](https://iamthetwickster.deviantart.com/)

Jacob watched the hand move, right until it was steady next to the porch. While everything had him a bit less relaxed than he always strived to be, that at least wasn't completely alarming. Dean moved slowly, and Jacob knew his assurance was true. He'd seen the guy take out moving targets with his shiny engraved colt handgun.  
  
Dean was attentive, and trustworthy. Jacob knew he didn't need to be afraid of that hand. He only paused a second before stepping carefully onto it.  
  
"Holy shit," he breathed. He had offered his own hand to Sam and Bowman countless times. He'd never thought about what it looked like from their perspective. It was an enormous living platform that actually  _twitched_  a little under his miniscule feet. The calloused skin had just the faintest give to it under his weight. Jacob stared down at it, his hands held away from his sides for balance.  
  
He had held people exactly like this. They must have given him so much trust in standing on his hand, and now he was giving out that same trust to Dean. It was humbling and encouraging at the same time, as strange as that felt.  
  
He looked back over to Bowman, who seemed amused by his awe, but he didn't care. It  _was_  strange. "Jesus. This is just. Wow."  
  
Sam stepped on after Jacob, trying to hide his grin at how weirded out by everything Jacob was. This was Sam and Bowman's  _normal,_  after all. They'd stood on Jacob's hand like this a thousand times. "See? Nothin' to it," he stated reassuringly as he took his place next to Jacob.   
  
Dean's fingers curled up around them reflexively, higher than normal since he was now holding someone who'd never been through anything like this in his life. Sam knew how much that trust would mean to him, and Dean would be afraid of letting Jacob down.  
  
The hand lifted away from the porch, coming steadily closer to Dean's face so he could get a good look at Jacob's new changes. The green eyes darted up and down Jacob's small form. "Holy shit," he breathed. He dragged his other hand over his face for a second.  _What if we can't fix this? We never found a way to change Sam back!_ The sight of Jacob in his hand, barely weighing a thing, drove the situation home to Dean.  
  
He took a deep breath, knowing he couldn't let Jacob see any doubts. They were counting on him.  
  
"Okay, guys. Just... hang on, alright?" Dean asked. He lowered the hand down to his chest and protectively cupped his other hand around the edges so there would be no danger of falling off. He turned towards the stream, scanning the ground for the sprites before he set off towards the abandoned wallet and phone. Jacob must have decided to eat his lunch far enough away that he wouldn’t make any of the smaller folk nervous. He usually thought things through better than Dean while he was in the village. Dean had a tendency to act first, think later. Having Sam around was at least making him a little better at thinking his actions through, since he had a very  _little_ little brother to worry about.  
  
For Jacob, being on Dean's hand while he was stationary was one thing. When he started walking, it added a whole new pitch and sway to the hand Jacob stood on with Sam. Who, he couldn't help but notice, didn't seem fazed at all by the motion. Sam had let himself be carried by Dean and Jacob both almost too many times to count. Bowman, flying nearby, probably wouldn't be either. Jacob was so unused to balancing on something like this, he nearly fell right on his ass after that first step. He usually thought of himself as sturdy, but... apparently not here.  
  
With a massive chest on one side and a hand guarding the other, Jacob could hardly tell how high up he was. It was a drop he didn't even want to think about, but he was almost curious to see what it must look like to have the ground sailing by far below while in a giant hand. He was really getting a look at what it was like to be Sam or Bowman.   
  
Minus the wings or the skills with climbing.  
  
They'd figure this out. They always did. Somehow or another, it'd happen; he'd be willing to accept it if it took a while, but this couldn't last forever.  
  
Closer to where he'd first shrunk, there wasn’t much more evidence. His wallet and phone still sat there, the phone open because Bowman had decided it was too much work to close the blasted thing before walking away. The food Jacob had packed wasn't all still there; that squirrel from earlier had probably dragged away most of it, but some of his stuff was still there in the grass.  
  
Bowman flew in a lazy spiral towards the ground as Dean arrived, landing near the phone again. "This is the place," he announced. It looked like any spot in the forest, ordinary and peaceful, save for the phone and wallet. Nothing about the environment told a story about what might have caused Jacob to be looking everything over from a hand bigger than himself.  
  
As Dean stepped up next to Bowman, he slowly knelt down, keeping his hand close to his chest the entire time to keep it steady. Only once he was on the ground did he lower his hand down to the ground for them, lifting the other hand out of their way so they could step onto the solid ground. Jacob’s steps were heavier than Sam’s, tickling Dean’s palm with a slight prickling sensation as he followed Sam down into the blades of grass.  
  
With his hands free, Dean picked up Jacob’s phone and wallet, only checking them over briefly to see if there was anything out of the ordinary. Once he was certain there was nothing strange going on with them he tucked them into the pockets in his jeans. That way they didn’t have to worry about Jacob losing anything important just because he was too small to grab it.  
  
Jacob watched with widened eyes. It was quite a sight to watch his wallet and phone get whisked away with such ease when it had taken both his and Bowman's efforts to flip the old phone open in the first place. Something that took plenty of exertion for Jacob at his current scale, who was used to being fairly strong, was barely an effort to Dean.  
  
As Dean put a hand flat on the ground to survey everything from above, Sam walked up to the remnants of Jacob’s food, noting with a humorous grin that some of the food was  _bigger_  than Jacob now. He threw a look at Jacob. “What were you doing  _right_  before you shrank down?” he asked curiously. They needed all the details they could garner from the scene, and that would start with what Jacob and Bowman could recall.  
  
Jacob was still a bit shell-shocked by this new way of looking at everything, so he didn't answer Sam's question right away. A nudge from one of Bowman's strong, leafy wings knocked him out of his reverie. Jacob walked over to his abandoned food, eyeing what was left critically. An apple slice that could normally be eaten in one or two bites would be hard to bench at this size.  
  
"I was just eating my food. I packed some stuff and I also found some berries and mushrooms out here that are cool to eat, I've had them before," he explained, absently kicking one such fruit and watching it roll up against a tuft of grass. He kept looking around, certain that most of what he'd found would be gone already, dragged off by animals in the hours since.  
  
Something made him pause. It was hard to be sure, because things were hazy right up before he found himself downsized. But there was a mushroom on the ground with a bite taken out of it, and Jacob had a hunch. "Eating  _this_  mushroom, like exactly. I'm pretty sure."  
  
"Probably true," Bowman chimed in, looking at the mushroom critically. "You made a face right after you ate something so it was probably something like a nasty mushroom."  
  
Dean went to reach for the mushroom, then paused. He used his jacket sleeve to pick it up, just in case the effect was caused by contact over time. It didn’t  _look_  any different than any mushrooms he’d seen in the forest, past the bite mark from Jacob earlier.  
  
Sam frowned in recollection. “Hey Dean. Mind if I use the phone for a minute?”  
  
Dean dropped the mushroom on his knees for the moment, keeping it out of the way of his companions. He smirked as he pulled out the cell from his pants. “This smartphone thing’s more useful than I thought it would be. I mean, we don’t even have to go back to the room to at least  _start_  research. Bet you’ll be dreaming of a phone like this someday, Jacob.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Sam waited for the massive hand to lay the phone in between him, Jacob and Bowman. “ _You’re_  just lucky you’ve got me around to set these things up for you,” he sassed as he stepped on, pressing down on the home key to light up the screen. He’d seen Dean try to do it for himself, and it had been one of the funnier sights. There had been so much frustration directed at such an innocent looking phone that Sam had to step in before it ended up tossed across the room. When living with a giant brother like Dean it was a good idea to watch out for moments of sheer cussedness and try to head them off.   
  
Once the phone was on he swept the screen with a palm, putting in the lock combination he’d programmed in for Dean. It responded to his palm as easily as it did to Dean’s finger. He’d ended up dialing the sensitivity to max to make it easily usable for his size.  
  
He ignored a nudge from Dean’s finger as he opened up the internet and started a search, bringing up a copy of Lewis Carol’s  _Alice in Wonderland_  for them all to see. “This had mushrooms in it that changed your size. I remember reading it as a kid.” He started to page through the story, trying to find the right paragraph.  
  
Jacob wandered up to the phone, looking it over with only minor envy. It was a nice phone, especially compared to his somewhat beat up flip variety, but his made calls and sent texts, which was all he really needed out of it. Someday, maybe, he'd be able to afford a smartphone without feeling bad about such a big purchase, but until then he'd just deal with it.  
  
That wasn't to say that he wouldn't be a little jealous of the fleet of nicer phones Dean always managed to have. He needed them to pull off the various hunter disguises he went with on a regular basis, but still. "Well, maybe I'll skip this one if it's  _that_  hard to figure out, Dean," Jacob needled the much larger hunter.   
  
Dean rolled his eyes at Jacob’s verbal prods. He lightly nudged Jacob with a finger and he stumbled. Dean was glad to see the kid starting to loosen up. “You know, if you’re  _that_  jealous, we can always get you one of your own. Even Sam’s got a cell of his own in case of emergency. Just nothing this fancy.”  
  
Jacob found himself surprisingly not alarmed by the hand that lingered near, even after the unexpected nudge. Sure, he definitely  _noticed_  it, but ... it was just sitting there now. And Dean was a friend; Jacob kept reminding himself of that and it made it a lot easier to wait in the man's enormous shadow. All he had to fear from the man was light teasing, and Dean always seemed to know just how far he could push his luck with Sam.  
  
Jacob's interested looks at the phone were nothing compared to Bowman’s. He watched with wide green eyes as the glass front responded to nothing more than a touch. Even Jacob's phone had required actual pressure on them, with small clicks so he knew the machine had felt it. This was something else entirely. Sam was perusing blocks and blocks of the boxy human lettering on the shining glass face of the phone with little more than swipes of his hand.  
  
"So mushrooms that change your size?!" Bowman asked incredulously, his wings rustling a little and one hand twitching as he almost reached out to touch the phone himself. "Humans have to deal with that?"  
  
Jacob barely remembered the weird story. All he knew was that it was supposed to be trippy as hell and had a thousand hidden meanings and lessons associated with it. "Well, no, not really. This story is made up. Or ... I guess it was supposed to be," Jacob explained, his brow furrowing as he watched Sam skim through the pages. If that was really it, maybe it'd be easy to just find whatever parallel was in the story and he'd be better in mere hours. That'd be a way better turnaround than most of their cases.  
  
Sam answered Jacob and Bowman almost distractedly as he navigated the screen. “A lot of old myths and fairytales are inspired by true stories. If you ever read  _The Borrowers,_  that sounds a lot like people my size. There’s a chance that the author of the story had some strange event happen in their life that ended up inspiring this story years later. Maybe there really  _was_  a rabbit hole.”  
  
He made it to the part he was searching for, long after the ‘Eat Me’ cakes and ‘Drink Me’ potion. “Here we go.” He could hear Dean leaning over behind them all so he could see the screen they were looking at. Standing, Sam hopped off the phone next to Jacob so everyone could get a good look at it.  
  
" _One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter._ "  
  
Bowman and Jacob leaned closer to the phone almost at the same time, though Bowman had to squint at the letters. He still didn't read them very fast, so it was good that Sam read them aloud for them. As soon as he heard the explanation, he threw the sprite-sized humans a cynical look.  
  
Jacob looked kind of thoughtful, almost as if the words made sense to him. Sam looked almost hopeful and relieved, glad he'd found the right passage. But Bowman, not knowing of the cultural importance that  _Alice in Wonderland_  tended to carry, was just mildly confused by it. "What?! That sounds totally fake. Eating one side of the mushroom made him tiny and all he has to do is eat the other side?!"  
  
Jacob shrugged at the sprite, unsure of what else to tell him. It was a weird book that really didn't have much basis on reality as he knew it, but things seemed to match up. He'd only had about half of the mushroom, and now he was tiny. "I mean, it fits with the book. If this is just some kind of curse and whoever cast it is a fan of the story..." he shrugged again cautiously, glancing up at Dean.  
  
Bowman sighed faintly. Ever since he'd met Jacob, Sam, and Dean, he'd learned about some weird things in the world. And shrinking was obviously possible, so it shouldn't be much of a stretch to believe that growing someone would be feasible too. "So... then all we need to do is have him eat the other side of the mushroom and stand back so he can get giant again? That's it?" It would be relieving but almost frustrating that the answer was just sitting there on the forest floor this entire time.  
  
“Maybe,” Dean said. He glanced at the mushroom sitting innocuously in his lap. “There’s always a chance it’s that easy. Maybe they were counting on you not touching the mushroom again. Who’d eat something that obviously shrank someone down?” Aside from an animal that didn’t know what was going on, of course. It could always have been something that had been created to shrink down unaware predators. He knew as well as Sam how dangerous a wolf could be to people Sam’s size.  
  
And if it worked, they could always see if it worked on  _Sam_  on top of everything else. This might actually be the big break they’d been searching for during the last year and Jacob had obliviously eaten it. The thought of seeing Sam at his proper 6’4” height gave Dean a brief thrill of hope.  
  
As Dean picked the mushroom up again, he threw Jacob a cautionary look. “It’s your call, man. There’s a chance this won’t work at all.” He held it out towards the smaller hunter so he could take a bit of the mushroom.  
  
Jacob looked at the thing critically. It really did look just like all the other mushrooms he could find in the woods. He'd had others just like it and nothing like this happened. He supposed that, if it wasn't the mushroom that had caused this, it wouldn't do any harm to give the  _Alice in Wonderland_  solution a try. Dean was right; maybe it was that easy. If not, Jacob would have a bit more perfectly normal non-magical mushroom in his belly. No big deal.  
  
He reached out and tore off a piece of it, aiming for the side exactly opposite where he'd bitten it before. He stared at the piece curiously. It ... didn't really look like mushroom at all. At least, not how he was used to seeing them. It was much too large to have retained much familiarity aside from the texture. Other than looking like a wacky out-of-scale crumb of mushroom, it really didn't look remarkable.  
  
He glanced up at the others. "Well, uh. I guess I'll try it," he announced, his gaze lingering on Sam and Bowman. And then flickering up to Dean, who still loomed close. "Maybe you guys will want to back up a bit, give it some room in case it does work."  
  
Bowman raised his eyebrows, but couldn't argue. If Jacob suddenly shot back to his proper size, he might be dizzy for a minute. With Bowman and Sam too close, an accident was all too possible. The sprite smirked and said "Right. Try not to fall over again, but we'll be over here." With that, he began to back up with Sam to give Jacob plenty of room to return to his "sasquatch" size.  
  
Dean shifted too, and Jacob had to watch in awe as the hunter rose steadily to his full height, so impossibly far above him. The normally 6'5" hunter had to crane his neck all the way back to still see Dean's face. It was like he was over 100 feet tall, if Jacob were normal sized. It was humbling. This guy had so much power over the three people at his feet, and he would never once abuse it. Though it was intimidating to see him from a height that was barely enough to see over Dean's massive boots, Jacob took a deep breath and didn't otherwise react.  
  
Once Dean's huge footsteps retreated and Sam and Bowman were out of range, Jacob looked back at the mushroom piece in his hand. He sighed, really hoping this would be all it took. He glanced across the distance at them and lifted the thing as if making a toast, before taking a bite of it and swallowing it down.  
  
Something worked! Jacob was almost relieved even as a familiar dizzy feeling overtook him like something yanking the ground out from underneath him. Everything was a blur for a moment and then he found himself flat on his ass as the ground slowly stopped spinning.  _So much for Bowman's advice._  The thought was still accompanied with plenty of relief, though he put a hand to his head to try and get over the dizzy spell sooner. He looked up to find the others and make sure his fall hadn't done any harm.  
  


* * *

  
Something was wrong.  
  
The moment Sam saw Jacob eat the mushroom, when they were  _expecting_  him to sprout back up to his full height, instead there was a brief wavering over him.  
  
Then he was gone.  
  
 _Shit!_  Sam was running before he realized he’d started to move. Jacob was gone and nothing was back to normal and everything was going  _wrong_  and it had all been Sam’s idea.   
  
Sam’s fault.  
  
His satchel thudded against his back, the weight almost accusatory, as he closed the distance to where they’d left Jacob. The moment he approached the little clearing, he skidded to a halt, blinking in surprise at the sight that was revealed the moment he passed the last few blades of grass.  
  
Sam swallowed dryly. “J-Jacob?” he managed to ask, almost whispering. He hesitantly went to a squat, his hands on his knees to try and hide the fact that he was almost shaking from shock.  
  
Jacob was barely an inch and a half tall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam, you done fuked up
> 
> Leave us a review to let us know what you think! This lil experiment is a test of our abilities when completely unleashed!
> 
> **Next:** September 20th 2017 at 9pm.


	4. A Change in Perspective

_What... what happened...?_  
  
To say Jacob was in shock was a vast understatement. He had not expected to still see tall blades of grass or gigantic leaves lying about when he looked up. He briefly wondered if perhaps the mushroom now only came with dizzy spells for him, but no changes in size. Maybe the thing only worked to make people 'sprite-sized' but not anything else. Jacob made a valiant attempt at cautious optimism.  
  
He was not that fortunate.  
  
The approaching footsteps he could feel in the ground hadn't been Dean’s.   
  
They had been  _Sam’s._    
  
Sam, who Jacob knew to be four inches in height, had shoved his way past some grass and darted over, crouching to get a better look at Jacob. The footsteps, even carefully planted by Sam's years of practice moving around unnoticed by the giant humans around him, sent the faintest vibrations through the earth. Jacob felt each and every one.  
  
Because Jacob was small to  _Sam_  now.  
  
"What the fuck?!" Jacob blurted, scrambling back and shakily getting to his feet despite the feeling that his limbs were made of jelly. His head tilted upwards and his eyes met the shock in Sam's. Jacob had been able to trap Sam in a single fist with ease when they first met.  
  
Now, Sam was big compared to him in one of the most alarming reversals that Jacob had ever experienced. He barely passed Sam's knees in height! If Sam had seemed quite bulky and strong when they were close to the same four inch size, he was absolutely huge now, making all new details Jacob had never noticed much more obvious.  
  
He could see the stitching on Sam's handsewn clothes, and even a little fray on one of the jacket sleeves. He could see the furrows in Sam’s brow and he could see the muscles shift as he clenched his jaw, just as alarmed about Jacob's shocking change. Details that he’d never notice when he was his regular size, all standing out in stark relief.  
  
More footsteps, accompanied by the familiar (and slightly amplified) sound of rustling wings preceded Bowman rushing up, seconds after Sam. Jacob took a startled step back, somehow even more surprised to see a second four-inch giant approach. Bowman's bright green eyes, which were normally so hard to see because they were so tiny, widened and Jacob saw every bit of shock on the sprite's face.  
  
Jacob stared wide-eyed at them, hardly believing that he actually had to look  _up_  at his smaller friends.  _Normally_  smaller friends. He tentatively reached a hand up and pinched himself on the arm. There was a bare twitch of a wince, and he knew he wasn't dreaming this up.  
  
It wasn't Jacob who spoke next, but Bowman. "What?! How did this blasted happen?! He's sprout-sized!" Bowman was all too weirded out by the fact that his voice actually startled Jacob. That Jacob was tilting his head back to look at him in complete and utter shock.  
  
This was so wrong. He was supposed to be a giant! Instead, now  _Bowman_  felt like a giant, and he wasn't sure he liked it much. Jacob looked like an oddly-proportioned child, with limbs far too thin for him to be safe in the world. Doubtless his prodigious strength from his human size didn't translate to much at all in his newly-reduced stature.  
  


* * *

  
Dean couldn’t see  _anything_  from where he was standing a few feet back, just that Sam and Bowman were both standing there and Bowman was clearly upset, judging by the way his agitated wings fanned in a rhythmic pattern. A sense of unease exploded in Dean’s chest, only growing the more he watched.  
  
Hesitantly, Dean took a few steps forward, leaning over with his hands on his knees to see into the grass his brother was standing in.  
  
Jacob was quickly distracted from his shock over Sam and Bowman's size when he felt the rumble in the ground. A much  _bigger_  rumble than before. The tips of each blade of grass around them quivered in time with the tremors, and the shaking traveled up his legs through his planted feet and shaking knees.  
  
He knew what caused it and his regret for the extra shrinkage doubled. It was one thing to face being tiny in a very big world alongside his friends. Now even they were big to him, so tall that he had to tilt his head back to speak directly to them. And that was nothing compared to what was shaking the ground beneath him.  
  
_Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit that's right._  
  
Dean's even bigger now.  
  
And he was.   
  
Jacob's eyes were drawn straight up into a more distant sky. Dean's face was still framed by the green and gold canopy now a world away. He was over  _twice_  as big as he'd been before. Even  _leaning over,_  his intense green eyes were higher up than they'd been. Dean was colossal compared to Jacob now, and no amount of time with Sam or Bowman beforehand could have prepared him for the shock. Dean's very breathing created a gale high above.  
  
Dean’s eyes widened at the sight of an even  _smaller_  Jacob a few inches away from the other two. “Holy  _fuck_ ,” he whispered. Jacob couldn’t be more than an inch and a half tall. From where he stood, Dean couldn't even see any details on Jacob's tiny, upturned face. He wasn’t even  _half_  Sam’s size, and Sam was taller than him while he was squatting on the ground.  
  
With a sinking feeling in his gut, Dean said what was on everyone’s mind. “So, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that this mushroom  _ain’t_  from Wonderland.”  
  
Jacob flinched from the sound of the voice. He had thought it was a powerful rumble before, but now it was like a low roll of thunder, so far above him. Jacob gasped and his mouth hung open at the sight of such a colossal being. Jacob fit in his palm when he was around four inches tall. Now, at less than half that, he'd be able to stand easily on one  _fingertip_.  
  
It didn't seem possible that someone so big could exist. It very nearly felt as though Dean lived on a completely separate plane of existence.  
  
His heart was pounding with fear that he couldn't help. Everything around him was even bigger, and he hadn't even had a chance to get used to things at a sprite scale. Jacob almost managed to choke out a number of curses as he tried to stumble away.  
  
This attempt to find himself space to breathe and think was interrupted when a pair of hands appeared under his arms and his shocked staring contest with Dean shattered.  
  
Bowman hoisted Jacob up under the arms the way one might hold a child, lifting him to eye level. Jacob squirmed and kicked his small legs, but Bowman ignored that to look him over. For what, he wasn't sure. Some kind of trace of what happened? Perhaps something that'd help them fix him. Just the fact that Bowman would actually lift  _Jacob_  was perplexing.  
  
He looked over at Sam, and then up at Dean, still holding the extra miniaturized human up, hoisting him in the air for all to see. He didn't notice the tiny hands clutching desperately at his sleeves or the more intense kicking in those tiny legs as Jacob’s eyes widened in shock. "Well  _now_  what?!"

 

[Artwork by mogadeer!](https://mogadeer.deviantart.com/art/com-Freakin-out-562741381)

  
Sam practically sputtered at Bowman’s movements. “Bowman! Put him down!” The order was barked, Sam’s voice severe. The look on Jacob’s face was as terrified as Sam had ever seen him be and the last thing he needed was to be tossed around in the air. Someone that was normally over six feet tall wouldn't be used to being lifted up so casually. “Let him get his bearings!”  
  
Jacob could see the sheepish look on Bowman's face when the sprite looked back at him after Sam’s scolds. He knew he couldn't blame Bowman for being so weirded out. He'd been weirded out when he learned small folk existed. The rational side of his brain understood that things were strange, especially for Bowman, someone used to being the small one.  
  
Of course, the other side of his brain had many other things to say. Jacob felt like he was over fifteen feet in the air at  _four inches up_. He was immensely relieved when Bowman followed Sam's advice and let him back down on the ground so he could stumble back. The sprite crouched, looking very concerned still. His big wings lowered and Bowman looked apologetic as he took in the sight of his best friend coming to terms with his alarming new size.  
  
Dean was freaking out inside as much as Sam and Bowman. Even held up in Bowman’s arms, he couldn’t make out all of Jacob’s features. His face was too small for Dean to see, his arms and legs…  _so fragile…_  weren't much thicker than pencil lead.  _Holy fuck,_  his mind repeated, almost stuck in a loop. This was insane. This was impossible. He’d never even thought it was possible to see someone shrink  _smaller_  than Sam’s four inches. That was small enough.  
  
Trying to take a steadying breath, he knelt down on the ground carefully, trying to get low enough to be able to make out Jacob’s features and see if his friend was alright.  
  
Jacob’s eyes were drawn right back up to Dean, the definite winner of the giant contest here. Jacob could tell he was trying to move slowly to kneel closer, but even those movements were so massive and fast and alarming to watch. It really was like seeing a skyscraper kneel down to greet him. Dean's knee hit the ground with all the grace and subtlety of an avalanche. The ground shook under Jacob and the other two, but Sam and Bowman didn’t react to the trembles.  
  
After all, that was part of their  _normal_. They were used to Dean and Jacob being that size. They trusted Dean and Jacob like that, and did so every day of their lives.  
  
Jacob dragged both hands back through his hair and took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks out to release it slowly. This was a lot to take in. A small primal part of him wanted to just turn and bolt and find a nice hollow to curl up in while he coped with this, but that'd get him nowhere. Especially out here in the woods, where he could lose a match with a bug.  
  
He tried to take several deep breaths, looking between all of his giant friends' faces, to get his mind back in control of itself. It was unnerving that, while he took his own deep breaths to calm himself down and focus, he could hear the gusts of Dean's breaths filling lungs that were likely the size of a small concert hall to Jacob.  
  
"Holy shit," he finally murmured. "Holy fucking shit." He shook his head, shook out as much of the nagging panic as he could, and sighed. His eyes were still wide but he was clearing his head. Working it through. Slowly. "Okay. Uh. So. Mushroom didn't work, we'll uh. Have to find a different solution I guess. Holy shit."  
  
“Yeah…” Sam breathed. He inched forward so he was next to Jacob, trying to not freak him out more. “We will. Shit, Jacob. I fucked up bad with this one.” He put a steadying hand on Jacob’s tiny shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze.  
  
Dean, above them, could hear Sam fine. On the other hand, he had no idea that Jacob had said  _anything_ , with the downsized hunter talking in such a naturally soft voice. “I don’t think you can take all the blame for this one, Sammy,” he told his little brother, responding to the part of the conversation he could make out. “We all agreed on it.”  
  
He tucked the mushroom in his jacket. There was no  _way_  he’d be leaving that anywhere a sprite could stumble on it, or even some innocent wildlife. “Guess it’s a good thing you didn’t eat more,” he said to Jacob, eyes locked on the tiny form of his friend. “We, ah… we gotta get you off the ground though. It’s not safe down there for ya.”  
  
With a cautious motion, he reached his hand forward and flattened it against the ground a few inches away from everyone. Hell, Jacob was almost small enough that the  _width_  of Dean’s hand outsized him. Dean swallowed nervously. Seeing someone that was taller and more muscular than he was suddenly standing smaller than an army man was more disturbing than anything else he’d ever seen. And he’d seen a lot.  
  
The weight of Sam's hand on Jacob’s shoulder was heavy but not overbearing. Mostly he was just amazed that Sam's hands seemed so big to him. He could remember accidentally covering up part of that arm with his fingertips that first time they'd met, when Sam had taken a leap of faith and offered to shake his captor's hand.  
  
Of course, Dean's hand was much bigger by comparison. Jacob clenched his jaw and sighed, knowing Dean was probably right about it being dangerous on the ground. Even a runty mouse could give him trouble if it were so inclined.  
  
"Right, right," Jacob answered, speaking up because he realized Dean had to be having a hard time hearing his voice. Even Sam and Bowman could become too soft-spoken sometimes. "Good idea." Getting onto the huge hand would be safer than taking his chances where everything that crawled could look at him funny. He shuddered at the thought of gigantic bugs.  
  
So why weren't his legs moving?   
  
Jacob stared down at his feet, willing himself to just step forward and climb onto that hand. It was still just Dean, and he knew he could trust Dean with his life. And now more than ever, his life definitely needed to be looked after if he wanted to keep it. But his body was still frozen up from the shock. "Yeah, wow, sorry. I'm. I'm getting there, I swear," he assured them, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.  
  
Sam winced, knowing how hard this was for the downsized hunter. "Jacob, this is for your own good, okay? Just don't move." Before Jacob could respond, Sam stood, sweeping his friend into his arms in one easy movement. Even that was a shock. Jacob was lightweight compared to  _Sam_. Hell, he could probably fit the guy in his satchel if he needed to. The surprised squirming didn't do a thing to change what was happening.   
  
Jacob was too small.  
  
With Jacob in his arms, Sam walked quickly over to Dean's hand. The size difference might be jarring for him but they all knew the dangers that existed on the forest floor for even Sam. Jacob would hate to meet a spider or a swarm of ants.  
  
Once he climbed on, Sam let Jacob down in the center of Dean's palm. He stayed kneeling next to him, hoping to help lessen the shock a bit. "You good?" he asked softly, waiting before giving Dean the 'okay' signal. Even just standing on Dean's hand like this was already safer than the ground; critters would avoid a human like him nine times out of ten. They could afford to give Jacob a few moments to get settled if he needed it.  
  
Jacob sat down next to Sam as he took a few more deep breaths. Getting scooped up in someone's arms like that had been decidedly unexpected, but it got the job done. It was for the best. Jacob's legs were so wobbly from the surprise of it all that if he tried to take any steps, he'd probably fall right on his face.  
  
Bowman inched closer to the hand, but opted not to travel on it so he wouldn't crowd Jacob in. He was handling things well, all things considered. He hadn't screamed or bolted from Dean, and was making clear sentences and everything. But Bowman could see that his friend was shaken, and he couldn't blame him at all. He tried to offer Jacob an encouraging smile, and the human returned a very nervous, tight-lipped smile and one of those weird thumb-up gestures humans used.  
  
"I'm good," Jacob replied. He might never quit being amazed that Sam was this big compared to him. Jacob probably wasn't any bulkier around than one of Sam's  _arms._ "Not so bad at all." He glanced at the surface beneath him, and definitely noticed that while there had been some miniscule give to the callused palm before, there was none now. Jacob was too small for it. He might as well have been sitting on a sidewalk. A sidewalk with a pulse that thrummed under him and shook his entire body.  
  
"Hang on then, okay?" Sam said, giving Jacob a smile. Despite the cheery demeanor he affected, the expression in his eyes was pure worry. Even when he first shrank down years ago Sam hadn't been this small... if his memory was right, his first year of being cursed, he’d stood at an entire two and a half inches. Not to mention the fact that Walt had kept Sam far away from any humans, period. He hadn’t gone to gather supplies until a few years later. By then he’d had time to learn to climb and all the basic survival skills, drilled into his head by Walt much like the lessons John and Dean had drilled into his head as a human.  
  
Glancing up at Dean, Sam gave the hunter a thumbs up, letting him know they were ready. He was thankful that he was being patient while they got settled on his palm. Jacob, no doubt thanks to his usually very chill demeanor, was managing to hold onto his sanity for now, but there was a lot being thrown at him. Sam didn't envy what he was going through at all. Hell, Jacob was barely the length of  _Sam's_  arm.  
  
Once he saw the signal, Dean nodded cautiously. His fingers curled up around them as he lifted himself off the ground and went back to his knees. Sam swayed in place, and Dean realized he was shakier than normal.  _Slow and steady,_  he cautioned himself. He couldn't even feel Jacob's weight, so he needed to do this right. The people on his hand had a huge amount of trust invested in him.  
  
Once he was upright, Dean held the hand near his face, finally able to see Jacob clearly. "Hey kid," he whispered. "How you feeling?"  
  
Jacob's eyes were wide as he stared back. He could see every freckle on Dean's face, every minor shift of his irises as green eyes nearly the size of Jacob dilated to focus on him. Jacob thought that he could be looking at a face projected on the Times Square coke sign and it would be about this big.  
  
It was a discouraging thought that he needed to be this close for Dean to be able to see him clearly. There was no way for him to be sure exactly how big he was; he was certain the others had a guess as to his current measurement, but he wasn't going to be asking  _that_  anytime soon. It had to be  _tiny_  if the simple action of Dean whispering sent a considerable breeze over his body.  
  
"Uh, well," Jacob started, offering another nervous chuckle as he glanced around from his high perch. It was kind of funny that Sam had told him to hang on ... there wasn't much to hang onto on the huge, living platform. Of course, he could feel every ridge in Dean's skin. If it came to it he could probably try to hang onto those, and that was just a weird thought. "I'm feeling like this is all kinda weird, and like maybe the bones in my legs went on vacation. But other than that I'm actually fine, mostly just being a pansy ass because  _fuck._ "   
  
His next smile was more genuine, to show that he really was unhurt. Dean already looked worried enough, a deep crease in his forehead plain to see.  
  
Hell, the crease in Dean’s skin was now deep enough for Jacob to stick his hand into.  
  
Dean offered back a wan smile of his own, glad to finally be able to hear Jacob without straining. It had been  _weird_ , seeing Sam or Bowman talking to him but not hearing any of the responses. He didn’t like it at all. One of his closest friends was right in his hand and he couldn’t  _hear_  him unless he was close. Even now Jacob's voice was light and soft, as though a gentle breeze might snatch it away.  
  
“You’re allowed to freak out a little, trust me,” Dean reassured Jacob. “None of us saw this coming. We’re gonna get this fixed for you, I promise. No matter what it takes, you’ll be back to looming over me in no time, Sasquatch.” He couldn't imagine what the kid was going through. He'd never seen anyone that small in his life. Even the youngest sprite Dean knew, young Vel, was taller than Jacob.  
  
He glanced over at Bowman, then back to Sam and Jacob. “We should get back to the motel me and Sam checked into. I have a feeling we’re gonna want to do a lot more research on this before we try and ‘cure’ you again.”  
  
Sam bowed his head, still guilty that he’d screwed up so badly. Jacob was less than half his size. Even if he  _could_  fly or climb like Bowman or Sam, it wouldn’t be safe for him to try. One of Dean’s fingers curled in, ruffling Sam’s hair to try and help him feel better. In the corner of his eye, Sam caught Jacob watching the motion with awe and trepidation.  
  
Bowman agreed. They needed to take this cautiously. Sam's idea had been a good one, considering the story that apparently all the humans knew. He took flight and hovered closer to Dean's eye level, his gaze straying to Jacob more than once as his friend looked around.  
  
"Yeah, good idea. I'm coming, too. But I'll probably need to let my family know that I'm gonna be gone." He offered a grin that he tried to believe. "Last time I took off with you guys without telling Candara, you know what happened."  
  
That got a faint chuckle out of Jacob. He had been the guy who grabbed Bowman and carried him out of the forest against his will so easily. Bowman had been unable to resist, though he'd struggled mightily, even tensing those wings. Jacob heard every beat of them now, and they seemed so powerful. The sprite may have a willowy frame and thin body compared to Sam's, but he had already shown that he was plenty strong enough to carry Jacob in this state.  
  
"Alright, yeah, don't need Bowman to get slapped in the face again," Jacob concurred. The sprite's aunt, Candara, had been a tad upset with him when they finally brought him back. She was more like a mother to him, after all, and he had been gone for more than a day unannounced.  
  
And now, who knew how long Bowman might be away? They had no idea how long it'd take to figure out what had caused Jacob to fall under this frankly terrifying miniaturization. His family deserved to know, and Jacob was more than a little humbled that his friend would so willingly leave home for an indeterminate amount of time to help him.  
  
Anyone who knew Bowman was aware of his love for the forest he grew up in. Ever since he'd learned about humans existing, the sprite had taken it upon himself to learn every corner of the vast woods, flying far and memorizing every tree. When Jacob wasn't visiting, he knew that was what Bowman did with his time.  
  
“Let’s get this show on the road then,” Dean said. He gave Jacob a small, strained smile. “Sorry if things get bumpy for you.” He had a feeling this would be rougher on the kid than it would on Sam or Bowman.  
  
Sam put a hand on Jacob’s back as Dean straightened, no longer looking down at the two of them. The green eyes above did their standard scan of his surroundings, a habit he’d formed after a few visits to the forest haven. The sprites had welcomed the giants into their homes, to the point where children would come and visit with Jacob constantly.  
  
Luckily, since they were still across the stream that burbled along none the wiser to the drama in its midst, there wasn’t any traffic in the area. The ground around Dean was clear aside from the scattered remains of Jacob’s lunch, all now far too big for him. Even the berries Jacob had been snacking on were enormous beach balls compared to the miniaturized hunter.  
  
Pushing on his knee with his hand, Dean went to a stand in one smooth movement. As soon as possible, his free hand was cupped around Sam and Jacob to make sure there was no chance Jacob would slip off. Sam, at least, was unaffected by the movement, remaining crouched on his knees next to Jacob. Once Dean was certain they were protected, he started a careful walk back to the village, stepping briskly over the stream on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sensory overload! No one knows how to handle!
> 
> Dean, pls. Why so tol.
> 
>  **Next:** October 1st 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> **Please see Chapter 1 for all warnings, and check the tags!**
> 
> **\----- > Read this! ------>**
> 
> So, I don't know how much I've kept update on here, but things have been pretty tough this summer! Between unexpected expenses, a dying car and the loss of an aunt and an uncle (completely separate sides of the family, one to cancer one to a tumor), I've been trudging through.
> 
> I won't be posting this Sunday or the following Wednesday and I'll be taking a bit of a breather for the week, and tumblr will only have the usual queue posts going, nothing new. No asks or excerpts. No story updates. 
> 
> Don't worry, the askbox is open and I'll still respond to messages and comments! I just won't be able to take any time for larger posting projects. Things are looking up a little this last week.


	5. A Change of Pace

With Sam supporting him, Jacob thought he was doing fairly well riding on Dean's palm. He managed not to fall flat onto the huge hand when Dean stood to his full,  _enormous_  height, even with gravity doing its best to knock him over. It was like he was on a plane taking off, with air pushing down on his shoulders and making him duck in surprise. Everything about the sensation seemed to imply that he really should stay on the ground for his own good, but Jacob weathered it well.  
  
When he'd been four inches tall, he'd been able to feel every twitch in the vast hand beneath him, every minor sway that Dean's hand made as he moved. Every stride Dean took had translated into the hand carrying Sam and Jacob. Wind breezed past him and he had swayed on his feet. Balance was shaky but possible. Weird as hell, sure, but Jacob would equate it to having to stand on a bus ride because all the seats were taken.  
  
Dean taking a step now? Jacob didn't stand a chance.  
  
Dean's steps probably weren't any bumpier, and Jacob logically knew that. But logic didn't keep him from falling over the moment the simple motion began. Dean's usual swagger felt so much more obvious, translated up his great height to his arm as it swayed in the air. Jacob pushed himself up and looked past the fingers that created a barrier for himself and Sam. He could see through the cracks between each finger, spotting the forest background zipping by and Dean had only taken a step or two.  
  
The length of those strides had to be over ten times Jacob's current body length, and Dean was covering that distance in  _seconds_. It was awesome and frightening to think about.  
  
When Dean actually stepped over the stream, which chattered loudly far below, an even bigger river to Jacob now, Jacob's hand almost automatically found Sam's sleeve. He latched onto it, marveling briefly that the fabric was  _thick_  in his hand. It had always seemed like the thinnest fabric but now it was almost cumbersome. Jacob felt his face heating up from the action, but didn't let go. He knew none of them were likely to judge him for it, but all the same he didn't want to show how much all of this affected him. He just wanted to focus on trying to fix it.  
  
Sam gave him a reassuring smile as Dean drew closer to their destination, barely wavering in place as the large hunter moved. It was amazing to see how  _used_  to this form of transportation he was, completely at ease in the massive hand, and he was the same way in Jacob's hands. Sam spent a lot of his time entrusting his life to someone else like this, trusting his friends to keep him safe.  
  
The village wasn't far off from where they'd started. Jacob remembered it would normally take him just a few steps to be back in it. Now the trek would be an arduous journey that might take him the better part of a day, just dodging patches of grass that grew too thick or avoiding bugs or merely detouring around fallen  _twigs._  Dean was covering all that ground with barely any effort, powerful steps that echoed up through the hand holding them, reminding Jacob of just how tiny he'd become.  
  
Seeing the village at sprite size had been fascinating and satisfying. Jacob had been amazed by their idyllic scenery and simple lifestyles since he'd first seen the quiet village at the heart of the forest. Letting Rischa show him around had been fun.  
  
Now, the village was over twice the size it should be even for the sprites. The canopy, which was already so impossibly high above, loomed even farther away. Leaves bigger than king sized beds waved innocently in a breeze, waxy green flags that Jacob probably wouldn't even be able to tear. Sprites that flitted past Dean moved so  _fast,_  those speedy wings moving air around in a show of force that would surely leave Jacob exhausted.  
  
He couldn't help a slight sense of unease when he recalled that the hunter carrying them could snatch a sprite out of the air in an easy motion; he'd done it to Bowman several times just to annoy the sprite. Seeing how powerful those wings were at an all new scale made him appreciate the times Bowman had grown so protective of those leafy green appendages.  
  
Dean kept his other hand hovering nearby to wall Jacob from any possibility of plummeting over a relative 150 feet to his death. Even with it blocking most of his view, Jacob still caught glimpses of the houses on the home trees, of pine needles longer than his body and sharp enough to actually damage him, of 'tiny' blue butterflies with wings bigger than his face. The idyllic village had taken on an unsettling bigness.  
  
It didn't take long for Dean to get to the tree that held Bowman's home. He saw Bowman dart past the human overhead to swoop down to his porch, near which the hands finally stopped moving along with the rest of the colossal hunter. The inertia caused by Dean simply coming to a stop made Jacob sway where he sat, but by then his attention was riveted on Bowman's family, who were on the porch with him to hear his explanation. Candara and Larxe had both been shorter than him the last time he saw them, and normally they were  _much_  smaller. It was strange that, sitting on Dean's hand with Sam, Jacob had to look up at them, too.  
  
Then, he finally noticed Rischa.  
  
While her parents and cousin were quietly getting up to speed on what had happened (he doubted they expected Jacob to return to their home even smaller than before), Rischa's delicate hands were placed over her mouth, and a look of shock widened her keen golden eyes. That gaze was fixed right on Jacob. He could see worry on her face, and knew that was likely her considerable empath abilities telling her all about how nervous Jacob was, a fraction of his normal size sitting on a palm broader than his bedroom floor.  
  
But there was also some curiosity there. And, Jacob recognized another look; the look of a little girl who's seen something she finds adorable. That was when he realized that to the two-and-a-half inch girl, a wispy little sprite with dainty wings and pigtails, Jacob was the size of a large doll.   
  
_Holy shit._    
  
Perspective just kept knocking him in the head.  
  
The girl swayed forward a bit, but stopped herself to glance up at her parents and Bowman. They didn't pay her much attention, and she took that as permission to approach Dean's cupped hand. Rischa really could feel the nerves just wafting around Jacob like a wave of thick fog. She felt drawn to it, yearning to help soothe his shattered nerves.  
  
And, he was  _adorable_.   
  
She opened her wings, spreading the leafy green membranes wide. Spotting the look of awe on his little face, she smiled. A fluttering hop later, and she had joined Sam and Jacob on Dean's steady, protective hand. She trusted the human completely, after all, and he was a safe person to be around. Due to her empathic nature, she understood this better than almost anyone in the village. With this comforting knowledge in mind, Rischa could focus on Jacob, who sat looking up at her with an attempt at a smile on his face.  
  
"Oh, Jacob," she greeted, a faint frown marring her brow. "Don't worry," she almost pleaded with him. She caught a sense of embarrassment drifting up from him as well, and offered him another smile. Then, unable to really help herself, Rischa knelt and swept the very small human into a hug. Jacob was surprised at the unexpected action, but he was just too  _cute_  not to want to sweep up.  
  
Jacob shifted around in Rischa's sudden embrace, slightly disconcerted by how easily she'd lifted him, but he couldn't really say he didn't expect this from her. She seemed to like getting hugs from him normally, when he'd simply cup the tiny girl close to his chest where she could feel his heart beating and snuggle into the soft fabric of his various hoodies. He'd definitely come to see her as kind of a little sister himself, much like Bowman had seen her since the day she was born.  
  
He'd just never expected that Rischa would be able to return a hug like this.  
  
He wound up lifted off of Dean's palm with one of Rischa's arms under both of his, and her other hand resting atop his head. Not patting his hair, but just resting there. Jacob felt like he knew how a kitten felt when a child carried it around. His legs were once again hanging free, though Rischa held him close to her, a far more reassuring gesture than when Bowman had held him out at arm's length just to look him over. Unlike everyone else, Rischa seemed to have foregone shock and skipped straight to enamored.  
  
With a slight flush, he remembered that Sam and Dean were both right there with front row seats to the show. He sighed internally and rolled his eyes, just imagining the smirks the brothers would be sharing at his expense.   
  
Despite the teasing that was due to come he wasn't about to push Rischa away. She was one of the nicest people he'd ever met, a truly pure heart. With her special spiritual gifts, she had learned a thing or two about exuding calm. As long as she held him in her arms, he didn't feel afraid. Not of her, not of Sam looming over them both, and not even of the massive palm he was suspended over, dwarfing them all.  
  
As the seconds started to stretch on with him held like a beloved doll in the girl's arms, it became clear to Jacob that Rischa was planning to hang onto him until Bowman finished briefing her parents on the situation. It should probably be any second now, but still. He took a chance and glanced up at Sam's face to see how the other hunter was reacting to Jacob's situation now.  
  
Dean couldn’t help the huge-ass grin he got at the sight of Jacob being held like a doll. It just seemed  _adorable,_  and none of them had ever expected  _Jacob_  of all people to get scooped up into anyone’s arms like that. The guy was normally freakin’ 6’5” after all! Dean was  _short_  next to him and now he was being dangled in a tiny sprite’s arms.  
  
_On_  Dean’s palm.  
  
At least Jacob didn’t seem to be freaking out anymore. Dean let himself drop the second hand away so that he wasn’t hemming everyone in on his palm. While he was standing stock-still like this he wouldn't have to worry about Jacob slipping off. And Sam, holding in an identical grin to Dean’s, was watching the pair like a hawk from his crouched position. If anyone came close to falling, he’d have no problem grabbing Rischa and Jacob both if he had too.  
  
Dean was relying on Sam right now.  
  
He couldn’t exactly keep a close eye on Jacob the way things were. When he’d glanced down and seen Jacob had fallen over where he sat, it has been a surprise. Dean couldn’t  _feel_  him there. He didn’t weigh enough to make any kind of impact on the skin he was standing on. Jacob was pretty much weightless as far as the largest hunter was concerned and  _that_  worried him as much as the fact that he couldn’t hear Jacob speak unless he was close.  
  
Dean’s face was being rubbed in his own scale by simple facts. If it wasn’t for Sam and Bowman, he might never have even seen what had become of Jacob when he’d eaten the poisonous mushroom.  
  
Which, now that Dean thought about it, might be something they’d want to hold on to. If they could find a way to reverse the effects, it might help out a huge amount in a hunt one day. Being able to shrink your enemy without a problem? There was no question in Dean’s mind that it would be a useful tool to possess.  
  
Sam reached a hand over, putting it on Rischa’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’re going to take good care of him,” he said with assurance. “Next time you see him he’ll be back to his normal giant size and we’ll all give him a proper hug.” His mouth twitched up at the sight of Jacob rolling his eyes at his predicament. It was all made more entertaining by the way Jacob’s legs dangled free.  
  
Rischa smiled at Sam, though her usual cheer was slightly dampened by how dangerous and scary it must all seem for the reduced human in her arms. "I know you can keep him safe," she agreed, coiling her arms around Jacob a little closer as she spoke. She knew he was still kind of embarrassed, but she couldn't help it. How many chances would she actually have to hug Jacob for real? And, she reasoned, she was helping him to calm down a little with her useful empathy.  
  
Jacob turned his head upwards the best he could, and saw Rischa send him an encouraging smile. He couldn't not smile back at her. That would just be mean and he knew she didn't mean any harm by it. But looking up did give him a glimpse of the absolute shit-eating grin on Dean's massive face hanging suspended above the hand, those Jacob-sized eyes crinkled with mirth.   
  
He was never going to hear the end of this.  
  
He supposed it was better than many alternatives. With Dean's hand no longer walling them off so completely, Jacob could see farther around them. The needles of the pine tree they waited near were all about twice Jacob's length, glittering dark green spears that could run him through without even bending. He could see the rosebush from here, and remembered seeing the thorns on it when Rischa took him on a walk earlier. Those thorns would be sharp enough to seriously injure him at this size. And he could see farther out, beyond the neck of the woods that the sprites tended to and kept neat.  
  
The forest was already dangerous for the sprites at their size. To Jacob, it was a vast world of towering trees that bore silent witness to all of the countless things that could kill him. When a bluejay flitted by in the distance, Jacob noted that he'd barely be enough to feed one of its babies. He decided to stop thinking about baby birds and their greedy, gaping beaks immediately. Right now, he was in Dean's hand. He didn't have to be afraid here.  
  
Rischa shifted and turned when Candara spoke up from the porch. Her mother was calling her back after a tight hug with Bowman, who really might not be coming home for a while. Rischa stuck her lower lip out in a pout, not wanting to give up her normally-giant friend just yet.  
  
As soon as Bowman saw the girl turn with Jacob dangling like a grassdoll from her arms, his face lit up into a smirk. Jacob just sent him a dirty look, but Bowman strode over to the edge of the porch, silent but immensely amused by what he was seeing. And he knew for certain that Jacob would never complain to the girl for coddling him like that, which made it all even better.   
  
This was blasted perfect.  
  
Rischa squeezed Jacob one last time, and he felt the breath pushed from his lungs by a girl who usually stood no taller than his pinky finger. "Woah, there, Rischa," he said breathlessly. "Pretty strong!" To which she giggled.  
  
"Stay safe," she told him before finally letting him back down onto Dean's hand. Jacob sat down again immediately, not trusting himself to keep balance on the uneven surface.   
  
Rischa fluttered back to the porch, and Jacob put a hand in front of his face in surprise from the small gust of air that accompanied her wings moving. She let Bowman give her a tight hug, his own strong wings wrapping around her until Rischa was almost completely obscured from sight. Leaving her for what might be a long time would be hard on Bowman. When she finally broke away from him, she went over to her mama to see them all off.  
  
Bowman straightened, his wings already fanning open and closed. Jacob knew that look; he was eager to get flying again and figure things out. The sprite only confirmed it when he said "Alright, I'm ready. Let's get going."  
  
Dean tried to wipe the grin off his face and only partially succeeded. “Well, I think we’re gonna have to find a place for Jacob to hang out until we get back to the car then.” He lifted the hand holding Sam and Jacob up until he could look Jacob straight in the eyes, putting them on an equal level, or as close to an equal level as Dean could manage. “It’s not safe for you to stay in my hand in case I need it, and the shoulder sure as  _hell_  ain’t happenin.’ “  
  
Sam put a hand on Jacob’s shoulder to help steady him while Dean’s intense green gaze was centered on them both. He knew that Dean could look fierce without meaning to, and Sam could only imagine what that looked like to Jacob, who wasn't used to seeing it at this scale. “What did you have in mind?” he called out curiously, knowing if Dean had brought it up, he probably already had a plan in store for the smallest hunter.  
  
Dean gave them both a rueful grin, nodding down at his pockets. “I’m betting it’ll be safer for our resident teddy bear to stay where he can’t fall.” The grin turned into a smirk at the memory of Jacob pretty much being cuddled. Jacob's expression flattened as Dean went on. “The side pockets have plenty of space. He won’t have to worry about being smothered the way the chest pockets might do.” He grimaced at Jacob. “It’s your call, man. But it’s too dangerous for you to just hang out here like Sam does. There ain't no seatbelts on this ride, after all.”  
  
The weight of Sam's hand on Jacob's shoulder might never quit surprising him while he was so small. Nor would the fact that when Dean spoke, his gruff, deep voice resonated in Jacob's skeleton and a gust of warm air pushed past him. Every single second seemed to drive home that he was in constant danger of something.  
  
Crappy nicknames aside, Dean and Sam and Bowman would keep him safe, like Rischa said. Jacob trusted them. He didn't really like the idea that he'd be confined to a vast pocket for the entire trip back, but he understood the necessity. Very begrudgingly, he shrugged. "And here I thought my career as a daredevil was about to get the most interesting start ever," he quipped. "I'll. Take a side pocket." He waved a hand as if pushing the decision aside. Either way it was going to feel weird to him, and he knew they all recognized that too.  
  
At least he knew Dean was used to having people in his pockets, and knew to be careful with them there. Sam traveled in there all the time, and Bowman had been stuffed inside for teasing a time or two. It couldn't be  _that_  bad.  
  
Sam stood, taking a step away from Jacob. “I’ll keep an eye out from the shoulder, then,” he decided. “I won’t be much good in a pocket for the trip.” It was a matter of a few seconds for him to slide down Dean’s forearm and scale up the thickly muscled bicep. The arm tightened a bit under him as he went, Dean doing his best to keep still.  
  
Once he was standing up on the shoulder, he felt a shock seeing Jacob from so far away. Dean’s hand was no more than a foot away from where Sam was and he could barely make out Jacob’s face.   
  
_Is this what Dean and Jacob feel like all the time with me and Bowman?_  he found himself wondering.  
  
It was unreal to go through the same experience as them. Sam had never thought  _he’d_  ever be the giant like this. It made him feel more protective than he’d thought possible. His lips twitched at the corners. Now he could understand why Dean got so overprotective with him.  
  
At least Dean knew to be careful and was used to dealing with smaller people. This time when the hand moved, it was cupped so there was no danger of falling, the skin almost turning into a concave slope around the tiny hunter. The pocket was held propped open by Dean’s other hand and he stuck his fingers out, forming a slope that Jacob would be able to slide down safely into the darkness.  
  
Sam found himself almost hanging off the shoulder to nervously watch Jacob’s progress, making sure that he got into the pocket without anything going wrong. Dean’s pulse was thudding heavily around Sam, equally nervous at the sight of how outsized Jacob was by  _everything_  around him.  
  
Bowman waited on the porch, unknowingly mirroring Sam as he leaned over to watch Jacob scoot himself carefully to the pocket. He couldn't see his friend's expression clearly, though he could vaguely tell he was concentrating on the task at hand. That was probably good; jumping recklessly from that high, even into a cloth pocket, could really injure the tiny hunter.  
  
Bowman suppressed a shiver. It was beyond weird to think of Jacob as  _tiny._  They needed to get him better as soon as possible, because this was all too strange.   
  
Jacob made his way carefully, taking his time but aware that they were waiting on him, three sets of giant eyes on his back. As he'd noticed before, he actually could use some of the wrinkles in Dean's skin to hang onto as he lowered himself down the makeshift ramp formed out of fingers way more powerful than he was. He knew that, beyond the edges of the hand, a heart stopping plunge awaited. So even as the edge of the pocket eventually rose over his head and the dark space below yawned around him, Jacob didn't consider turning back.  
  
He briefly marveled at the thickness of the ring Dean wore. That thing would probably be too heavy for Jacob to lift on his own. It was almost as wide around as Jacob was tall. His hand brushed past the metal, warmed by the hand it adorned. Dean's pulse steadily plodded under him as he went, powerful enough to really shake his body now.   
  
With a shaky breath, Jacob let himself drop off the end of Dean's hand at last and into the dark pocket.  
  
Instead of his fall being broken by the soft, oversized hammock he'd been expecting, he landed on something hard with a pained grimace.   
  
"Ow!"   
  
The noise sounded loud to him, echoing around the concealed area he was in, but the thick fabric around him stifled the sound before it could escape out into the open air. Jacob fell to his hands and knees on something cool and metallic.  
  
_What the fuck. Is this ... a dime?_  he thought in confusion, hefting a metal disk in his hands.   
  
With dawning realization, Jacob glanced around himself. The pocket was full of spare change. His hands, now so small, traced over the details of the cool metal of the coin even as Dean's hand retreated back out into the open air. His eyes began to adjust to the faint light that slipped in once the lip of the pocket settled closed again, slowly giving him a view of his new world.  
  
Jacob dropped the coin back to the floor made of money and it made a familiar noise, amplified in volume and detail. The clatter of coins together almost sounded alien at this scale. Out of sheer curiosity, Jacob felt around and realized that he'd landed on a quarter; it had to be a quarter. The thing was freaking  _heavy_  and he could almost lie across it.  
  
As eye-opening as it was to find himself on a pile of loose change, Jacob knew he couldn't stay there. It was dangerous enough knowing that he'd be in a pocket while Dean walked around with that swaying, bowlegged saunter he favored.  
  
He shifted himself to the side of the pocket away from Dean and found that he could actually grip the fabric around him by looping his fingers into the weave itself.   
  
_Holy shit._  
  
It wasn't a moment too soon, because there was movement. Jacob had thought the hand swayed, well the pocket might as well be an actual theme park ride. He almost lost his footing and tumbled among the money again as Dean decided it was time to go and began walking.   
  
Jacob opened his mouth to shout for Dean to hang on a second, but the pocket swung back to Dean’s side and bumped into it. What should have been an innocuous brush, the casual movement of clothing as it shifted with the person wearing it, was jostling enough to send Jacob sprawling again. His head landed on a folded up bill, sparing him from cracking his skull on a penny.  
  
"Dean, wait a second!" Jacob hollered, putting as much power into his voice as he could so he could be heard. "There's money in here! Stop for a minute!" He yelled more, even trying to pick up the dime again and throw it against the other coins to make some noise, and waited for Dean to hear him.  
  
And waited.  
  
_He can't even_ hear _me!_  Jacob's eyes widened with the realization as he continued to struggle against being jostled around with Dean's pocket money. He managed to find some stability sitting on the bill and clinging to the fabric walls again. The uneven light that came and went revealed that it was a five. Jacob rolled his eyes and exasperatedly thanked President Lincoln.  
  
This was going to be a long walk.

[Artwork by mogadeer!](https://mogadeer.deviantart.com/art/com-Pocket-Change-559358285)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on track for now! I can make no guarantees there won't be future breaks in posting, this year is a lot more topsy turvy than normal, and I no longer have a laptop if I am away from home for a weekend.
> 
> Plus, Monster Hunter World comes out in January and I can guarantee there will be a week I do nothing but play.
> 
> Jacob's not having a good time, Dean! You need to check your pockets better next time!
> 
> **Please see Chapter 1 for all warnings, and check the tags!**
> 
>  **Next:** October 4th 2017 at 9pm.


	6. "Cash"

Watching Jacob slowly scoot his way down his fingers was _weird._  Dean waited patiently until the small figure dropped out of sight, giving him a moment to get settled. Then he took his hand out, brushing it off to wipe away the strange feeling he’d got from the fact that he couldn’t even  _feel_  Jacob moving on it. He knew Jacob was there and that he  _should_  be able to feel something.  
  
But there was nothing to feel.  
  
Sam settled into the crook of his neck for stability as he started walking, heading carefully out of the village. Bowman swooped ahead, waiting as Dean grabbed his duffel bag from the ground. It hadn’t been any use so far, but he could never be too prepared in his line of work. He’d learned to keep whatever weapons he could on hand,  _especially_  when he had no idea what they might be facing.  
  
Like now. It was just their luck that not a single weapon in that bag could help.  
  
His thoughts turned inwards as he followed Bowman’s bright green wings out of the forest. What the hell would have caused a simple mushroom to have such an effect on Jacob? Dean had learned a few lessons in survival out in the woods from the kid and he’d even tried a mushroom identical to the one tucked into the inside of his jacket without any side effects at all. Sure, it wasn’t one of his favorite foods, but it hadn’t been  _awful._  And it certainly hadn't made him any smaller. Dean was still his usual 6'1". Mushrooms were just another bland vegetable as far as he was concerned.  
  
Sam, however, had taken a liking to the things, resulting in Dean having to order mushrooms on pizza on more than one occasion, to his eternal regret. Pizza should be either sauce and cheese, or loaded up with all the meat he could order. Not have a  _salad_  on top of it.  
  
The only thing worse would be Sam discovering he had a taste for anchovies. He’d have to draw the line there at least. If Sam wanted anchovies, he’d be getting his own pizza and Dean would be loading up as much bacon and sausage as he could to try and keep the  _smell_  of the fish away.  
  
The time passed quietly, everyone lost in their own thoughts. He hadn’t heard anything from his pocket since watching Jacob vanish into the depths, so he assumed the trip was going okay for their downsized friend. Dean paid careful attention to the rocks on the ground. They were hidden in the undergrowth, and he knew that one wrong step on his part would spell disaster for Sam and Jacob.  
  
After a little more than an hour of walking, the Impala and Jacob’s Mercury Cougar were in sight. They wouldn’t be able to move Jacob’s car, but this pull-off was out of the way and rarely used. Chances were no one would even notice if they left it for a few days. Dean doubted Jacob would appreciate them hot-wiring the car. That would only become an issue if the strange spell he’d fallen under lasted more than a few days. Until then, officers on patrol would assume the car belonged to a camper.  
  
Dean dug into his pants, scooping out his keys. “Alright guys, lets get this show on the road,” he muttered to everyone, especially Bowman. The sprite was once again leaving his home behind, this time willingly, to help his best friend.  
  
Bowman nodded. It wasn't lost on the sprite that their trek back had been almost entirely silent, completely void of the usual banter that accompanied them. Normally, he and Dean would have snarked nonstop at one another. Bowman might even have been dropped into one of Dean's chest pockets and buttoned in for his sassy comments.  
  
Dean's policy of 'pocket time' was blasted annoying, but it was normal. With Jacob stashed away in the hunter's pocket, helpless and small and distressingly  _vulnerable_ , even to Bowman, normal was farther away than anyone could fly. It wasn’t right.  
  
Bowman's aunt and uncle had been worried about letting him leave for so long, but they knew he wouldn't back down from something like this. Especially not when he was helping someone who'd saved his life. Jacob was Bowman's best friend, as unlikely as it was. Seeing him cuddled like a doll by Rischa had been hilarious, but it didn't cancel out the concern that Jacob was doll-sized in the first place.  
  
Once Dean opened up the Impala, Bowman swooped inside ahead of him. He alighted softly on the dashboard, definitely the best place to be in the Impala. The massive front window allowed in all the sunlight he could want, and it was a flat enough that he could stay reasonably steady as the car hurtled along the stone ribbon humans called a ‘road’. He sat down and made himself comfortable, ready for another foray in the human world. At least this time he wasn’t forced to come along.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob quickly gave up on making himself comfortable. At first, he thought he'd be able to get used to the cowboy gait Dean carried himself with. He threaded his fingers into the weave of the pocket, remembering with a soft smile that Sam had done something similar to one of his hoodies when they first met, absently unraveling the threads without realizing it.  
  
Sam had seemed so nervous then, afraid that Jacob would be upset with him. After their harrowing first meeting, in which Jacob had  _trapped_  Sam in his fist and accidentally bruised his fragile chest, who could blame the guy? Jacob hadn’t even realized how much damage he’d done at first with a few casual motions. He could have broken Sam’s hand without noticing when he took the silver knife away.  
  
Sam had been all alone in a car with a giant, one that could have easily changed his mind about helping the smaller human. There was nothing he could do to defend himself like that.  
  
How the tables had turned.  
  
Of course, Sam wasn't going to be a jackass like Jacob had been, but now he had giant strength to trump Jacob's. He could sweep him into his arms with no difficulty. It was definitely weird to think about after knowing Sam for so long at his four inch height.  
  
It only took a few steps from the colossal hunter outside for Jacob to realize that a smooth ride was out of the question. The pocket all but dropped out from underneath him once, making Jacob feel even more weightless than he already did, and it took him forever to realize that Dean had merely knelt to retrieve his duffel bag. A duffel bag that was the size of the Taj Mahal now.   
  
Jacob tumbled to the front of the pocket with some of the coins, thankfully only having a penny fall on him in the cataclysmic shifting of Dean's change. A quarter could knock him out in here and they'd never know until they got back to the motel.  
  
The entire walk was constantly perforated by Dean adjusting his steps to avoid rocks or foliage. Jacob could remember Bowman pointing out those same rocks more than once, keeping him from tripping up and landing on his face. Considering that he was now almost the size of a quarter in a giant pocket, Jacob was glad Bowman knew his forest so well, and glad that Dean was so sure-footed. Dean tripping would be catastrophic for his small passenger.  
  
Sam might survive a fall, but Jacob sure wouldn't.  
  
Of course, the constantly shifting stride left Jacob unable to establish any kind of rhythm in the pocket. He did his best to avoid it, but by the time he heard the sound of the Impala's keys clinking loudly in Dean's hand right outside the pocket, he'd earned himself a few new bruises. At least there was plenty of space in the pocket, so he wasn't crushed among the coins.  
  
Jacob tumbled again as the pocket dropped, then moved to the side. His guess, based on the change in lighting, was that Dean had just settled into the Impala's driver seat.   
  
 _Damn,_  he realized.  _My car is just gonna be sitting here._  
  
Hopefully the reliable Mercury wouldn't have long to wait before he was behind the wheel once more. It was no Impala by any stretch of the imagination, but it got the job done.  
  
He was drawn violently out of his thoughts when a slam to rival the heavens crashing down made his entire body flinch on pure instinct. He clung to the coins around him. Jacob's eyes were wide and his ears were ringing. His heart in his throat, he realized it was just the car door closing. The shiny black classic car (of which Jacob was exceedingly jealous) was unfathomably huge now, and Jacob didn't even get to see it.  
  
He huffed and settled himself back down on the five dollar bill now that Dean would be sitting still. The ambient noises of the forest were cut off with the door closed. No more birds chirping, no more squirrels cussing, and no more endless leaves rattling against each other in the gentle breeze. Soon enough they'd be powering down the road towards the nearby town and Jacob would be back in the world he knew.  
  
He took a few seconds to try to imagine what it would all look like now. He didn't get to convince himself he was comfortable where he sat musing before yet another sound made him flinch and slap his hands over his ears in an automatic response.  
  
The usual strong purr of the Impala's engine was now a huge roar. He distinctly remembered how Bowman had reacted to it, and now he could empathize. The sprite, trapped in Jacob's caged hands, had curled into a ball protecting his head and had shaken like the leaves his wings aimed to mimic. Like he thought he was under attack by an overwhelming predator. Jacob even knew what it was, and he thought it sounded like an enormous beast at his new scale.  
  
He took several deep breaths to calm himself down; he'd probably have to get used to loud noises for a bit. He could do that, no problem. No problem at all. He absently threaded his fingers into the pocket again and settled against the wall of fabric, actually relaxing for once as he didn't have to worry about dodging pennies.  
  


* * *

  
Dean pulled out of the forest. His stomach grumbled at him, reminding him that none of them had eaten lunch aside from Jacob, who was currently regretting the fact that he had. “I’m gonna run in to the Gas ‘n Sip down the road from the motel,” he announced to the car at large, knowing everyone could hear him fine. “We should pick up some snacks and grab some beers for the night. It might help take the edge off.”  
  
The last time he’d been around, they’d had reheatable meals. He could grab a burger and some fries, probably some apple sticks for the sprite. Something to help cheer Jacob up, maybe…  
  
One problem about the distracted, frazzled thoughts caused by Jacob’s sudden loss of height was that Dean couldn’t keep a train of thought going. He knew Jacob was in his pockets, but it had already slipped his mind  _which_  pocket he’d put the tiny hunter in. A small chain of events that would be unremarkable in any other circumstance, but here…  
  
It was like a constant, background hum was drowning out thoughts that normally Dean would never forget. He might not be the one reduced so drastically in size, but it had shaken him all the same.  
  
It was a quick ten minute drive, punctuated by the quiet sound of soft rock leaking from the speakers. He’d turned the radio down twice as far as normal. Sam hated loud noises, and he couldn’t imagine Jacob being any different. Time passed by swiftly since Dean had a distraction at last from everything going on. He could at least focus on the drive to the exclusion of everything else. Even Bowman was actually quiet for once, keeping his questions and complaints to himself.  
  
Sam remained curled against his neck, a sharp eye on their surroundings. He continued to be amazed at the world passing by so speedily. After years of being trapped in one place, he might never stop being awed at how much freedom he had with Dean. All he had to do was speak up and Dean would change the direction of the Impala.  
  
Bowman looked like he was finally adjusting to riding in a car. His wings shifted a bit in the movement as Dean turned the car into the Gas ‘n’ Sip parking lot, the sunlight sending patterns across his wings in bright ripples through the glass window.  
  
“Alright guys, pocket time,” Dean said quietly. He parked in a corner of the lot, away from any other cars so that no one would see the sprite flitting around inside. “Everyone needs to be hidden.”  
  
Sam was quick enough, already prepared for the necessity. He didn’t even need a hand, simply slipping down Dean’s chest and into the chest pocket he usually traveled in. The flap dropped down, hiding him from sight.  
  
Bowman stood on the dashboard and stretched a bit, blinking owlishly. With his wings hanging open and the sun beating down on them, he'd gotten plenty of energy from photosynthesizing. Sunning for so long always made a sprite sluggish, so after a few practice flaps of his wings to shake himself awake, Bowman glided to Dean's side pocket. It'd be good to check on Jacob for a bit.  
  
Bowman realized as he dropped into the hidden confines, though, that Jacob  _wasn't there._  Bowman, in his own distracted and sleepy thoughts, had forgotten which side of Dean Jacob was on like an idiot. And, with Dean opening the door to the car and stepping out, he couldn't exactly correct it. Jacob would have to be by himself for a little longer, and Bowman slapped his forehead with his hand for his mistake. Dean wasn’t the only one whose mind betrayed him.  
  
Jacob was just barely able to prepare himself well enough for Dean to move again. He couldn't help another flinch as the car door slammed, but at least Dean was walking on a level surface, making it much easier for Jacob to remain settled in the pocket. The familiar greeting bell jangled above, and Jacob glanced up as fluorescent light leaked into the pocket. At least they'd be in and out of there quickly, and he could get out of the pile of gigantic money soon.  
  
Dean strolled casually into the store, completely composed to avoid anyone picking up on the fact that he had three very small, very vulnerable friends squirreled away on his person. Bowman was tucked away on his left, Sam in the front, and Jacob should be with Bowman. At least they could get a few minutes to catch up, especially after such a long time tromping through the woods. The kid needed all the breaks he could get.  
  
He nodded agreeably at the cashier as he walked by, the man reading a magazine on the counter in the otherwise dead store. Browsing the food didn’t take long since he knew exactly what he was looking for. A few burgers and a bag of fries got scooped up into his hands, along with a bag of Fritos that he remembered Jacob liking. A guilty pleasure, the kid called it. Like pie for Dean. Trail mix probably wouldn’t do the guy much good at his size, honestly. Fresh fruit for Bowman in the form of apple slices and a banana, and a side salad for Sam if he wanted it.  
  
The beer cooler was the next stop. Dean tried not to spend long browsing, but he wanted to make sure he got something Jacob would enjoy. Spotting one of the local brews,  _Gamma King,_  Dean smiled. Jacob had said it was good. Time to give it a try.  
  
Opening the tall glass doors, cool, refrigerated air billowing out at him as he leaned over to grab a six pack of the stuff. Based on the size of his friends and brother, Dean would be drinking the lion’s share of it. One pack should be plenty. If Jacob was full sized, he might need to pick up an extra case.  
  
The cashier glanced up at him when he made it to the front again, eyebrows going up at the sight of the food and beers dropped on the counter. “Throwin’ yourself a party, bud?” the man asked casually as he started to ring up all the items.  
  
Dean gave him one of his more charming smiles. “Gotta stay entertained somehow, am I right?” he chuckled back, playing along.  
  
The man nodded at the rack behind Dean. “I always say you can’t go wrong with  _Casa Erotica_.”  
  
“Thanks, but I’m good,” Dean said, impatiently waiting for his total. He wanted to get back to the room with his friends and time was wasting. He didn’t need any recommendations from a random stranger.   
  
“That’ll be twenty-five sixty-seven,” the man announced, hitting one last key on his register. “Cash or charge?”  
  
That wasn’t a hard question for Dean. Since he spent so much time in the town near Bowman’s forest, he did his best to stick with untraceable methods of payment. Cash whenever possible. “Cash,” he replied with a wry grin, fumbling in his pocket for the money.  
  


* * *

  
Dean's rumbling voice growling out "cash" got Jacob's attention more soundly than the blast of cold air from the beer cooler. He immediately went from looking forward to a cold drink and some non-mushroom food to looking up as more light rained into the pocket.   
  
Dean's hand eclipsed the top of the pocket, blocking out any sight of the world above. All he saw was the massive silhouette of a hand more powerful than he could imagine. And it was reaching right for him. Too fast for Jacob to react, fingers the size of pillars settled around the money (and him) at the bottom of the pocket like a domed cage. They started to close in on him from all sides.  
  
 _Damn ... the one time he's not using his fleet of fraud credit cards!_    
  
Jacob should have remembered Dean preferred to stay off the grid in places he visited more frequently. He'd definitely heard the guy say it before. That memory wasn't very helpful to him now as he scrambled over the coins and bills in the pocket, trying to evade Dean's ever-tightening grasp. Time seemed to slow down and Jacob even thought he heard a faint pop in one of Dean's knuckles as the fingers slowly curled closer and closer around him.  
  
The huge metal coins shifted around and hindered Jacob's progress. He fumbled and rolled against one of the fingers closing in on him, but knew that wouldn't help; Dean couldn't feel him there against the thick calluses formed from years of hunting and fixing the Impala. Jacob's attempts to get away became more and more futile as Dean's hand curled securely around the cash, collecting the five dollar bill and a recently unburied twenty along with all the coins so he could pay for food.  
  
Before he even realized it was over, Jacob was trapped at the center of a pile of money, guarded on all sides by the massive hand it belonged to. No light broke past the hand and no air did either. Jacob only knew the overwhelming scent of copper from the coins. The smell was so strong he almost tasted it.  
  
As the hand started to rise through the air, Jacob found himself pressed into the massive palm, held in place by the fingers that were curled around the cash in an unbreakable grip. Jacob grimaced in discomfort when two coins pinched his arm between them, crushed close together by Dean's casually relentless grip. He was gathered up like a stray quarter and drawn into the light, though he did squirm quite a bit more than a quarter would.   
  
Not that Dean noticed. Why would he? He'd never had a person lighter than a coin in his pocket before. He couldn't even know to expect that Jacob might be caught up with his change. Jacob was just lucky that his grip wasn’t tight enough to crush him.  
  
Thoughts of being seen by another person while he was this vulnerable filled his mind and ran with his imagination. What if they took him? What if they claimed him as some kind of weird trinket or toy? What if they thought he was a bug and swatted him out of Dean's hand before he could react? What if they grabbed him in between two massive fingers, pinching him too harshly, to get a closer look, and pulverized Jacob's insides in the process? Even with Dean right there to take him back, Jacob was too vulnerable.  
  
As the hand stopped moving, the world flipped around on him. Dean had turned his hand over so he could examine his money. Suddenly Jacob was lying on the massive hand again in the curve created by Dean's fingers meeting his hand, but a bunch of heavy coins were settled on and around him. Fluorescent light from above filtered down past the coins in a dappled pattern, a bright mockery of the gentle sunlight that trickled through the canopy back in the forest. While Dean inspected what he had, Jacob realized the man had no idea he was even there because that stupid folded five dollar bill was settled over him.  
  
 _Well, fuck you too, Lincoln!_  
  
He debated with himself on whether he should risk crying out or trying to push the heavy paper away. If he did, the other guy might notice, which would leave Dean to cover for some awkward questions about why his beer money was yelling. Punching Dean's hand was a tactic he'd long since thrown out as a way to get the titanic hunter's attention. He'd never notice it. Jacob practically held his breath in his indecision, his heart racing, and hoped that Dean would just pick out what he needed and put the rest back in his pocket before Jacob got figured out.  
  
That hope was dashed in seconds. Like the worst kind of roller coaster, one with no railings or harnesses securing Jacob in place at all, Dean's hand rushed forward to hand the money off to the cashier.  _Shit!_  was all he managed to think as it began to tilt. Jacob scrambled as the ground under him grew ever more precarious, rolling over onto his front and scrabbling for a hold on Dean even as coins slid past him. They tumbled off the edge and plummeted to the cashier's waiting hand.  
  
When the five slipped away, Jacob got a view of the small coin avalanche as it slid to the edge of Dean's hand. Along with Jacob. Dean's fingers were casually curled as the hand shifted, ensuring that the cashier couldn't see the tiny person struggling desperately against the tide of currency. Not that it would matter if he failed. He'd be literally handed over to another person's mercy.  
  
As the floor beneath him tilted more and more, Jacob's attempts to not fall with the currency became more desperate, more frantic. The entire action took only seconds, but time lengthened for Jacob as he clawed for a hold, unable to find purchase on Dean's hand. He wondered desperately why Dean couldn't see him, since it was talking him so long to just tip his hand over, consigning Jacob to the hands of the unknown.  
  
The bright lights and colorful quickee mart displays on the counter created a kaleidoscope of a background for Jacob while his entire focus was fixed on the giant hand that was about to get rid of him, or the one that waited below, unaware of how terrifying it looked. It was like tipping closer and closer to a shark tank.  
  
A second before all was lost and he joined the falling coins and their tumble onto the cashier's hand, destined for the change drawer, Jacob's hands found actual purchase on something. He latched onto Dean's enormous ring, knuckles almost immediately turning white, just in time for his platform to finish its transformation into a wall. Jacob ducked as one penny fell past him, bruising his arm on the way. His legs hung free and below his dangling feet was the same pile of money he'd  ridden in on, just waiting for him to join it again.  
  
Jacob kept his eyes on that ring. As long as Dean didn't know he was there, it was his only hope. And with his hand tilted as it was, he probably wouldn't see him, either. Jacob's stomach was filled with what felt like angry bees as he stared wide eyed at his hands, desperately hoping they wouldn't slip and lose their grasp on the metal. His arms strained, stretched overhead. If Jacob hadn't kept himself in shape all this time, he might well have lost his grip already. Every second he delayed falling was another second he still had his fate somewhat in his own hands.  
  
“Look, keep the change, man,” Dean said, his voice like thunder above Jacob as the last of the coins fell out of his hand. He had more cash out in the car in his stash he kept hidden. Who would think to look for money in Sam’s panic room? No one could even get  _into_  it unless they were four inches tall, he’d made sure of it, and Sam wasn’t about to hold the cash hostage.  
  
While the cashier bagged up the food, Dean’s hand dropped to his side, twitching in impatience. He just wanted to  _go_  and get out of here. He chanced a quick glance at the magazine the man had been reading and realized it was a skin mag. He frowned. Not exactly something he wanted to see a cashier reading.  
  
The cashier passed the bag of food over the counter with a smarmy smirk. “Enjoy your evening,” he said in a chirpy voice.  
  
Dean gave him a tight-lipped smile as he took the food, reaching for the beers. “You too,” he muttered back, eager to get the hell out of there.  
  
With the six-pack rattling at his side he strode out of the quickee mart with a speedy gait. Soon they’d all be back in the room and they could get to some actual research and a bit of deserved relaxation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick trip to the mart and they're off to the motel room! Nothing's missing, right?
> 
> **Next:** October 8th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	7. Acrophobia

Jacob thought he might just lose what lunch he'd managed to have when Dean let his hand drop to his side. The motion was faster than seemed possible, swinging his tiny body around and making him worry for a moment that he'd lose his grip. His legs swung behind him, with nothing to secure them but the fact that they were attached to him. Jacob clung to that ring with an energy born of desperation, more thankful than ever that Dean wore it. He wouldn't have lasted a second hanging there the way Dean's hand was twitching in impatience. Jacob felt like he was in some fucked up rodeo.  
  
A very gruesome and deadly rodeo, if he didn't hold on.  
  
Jacob looked over his shoulder, past his dangling legs. Beyond Dean's relaxed fingers, the drop seemed to telescope into an endless fall, beckoning him towards the ugly linoleum floor that hadn’t been swept in weeks. That unforgiving plunge would break his body like glass shattering into a thousand pieces, and no one would even hear his desperate cry for help. The denim-clad pillar of Dean's leg stretched down beside him, ending in a boot the size of a bus. One that, in Dean's rush, could sweep right over Jacob's fallen body without the hunter ever knowing as he left the store.  
  
If Jacob fell from here, he'd become just another indistinguishable mark on that floor. It made his grip tighten on the ring with fear. It just took one slip.  
  
He looked up desperately, wondering if he'd be able to catch Dean's eye. That hope was quickly dashed when all he saw stretching up above him was Dean's wrist and the bracelets he wore there. Jacob got a vague view of the massive, muscular arm disappearing up the dark abyss of the jacket sleeve like some strange, dark, subway tunnel. None of that helped him. He'd never be able to alert Dean of where he was.  
  
It was unfair that the pocket, where Jacob at least had a  _chance_  of being safe, was less than a foot away. Swinging around in there with the remnants of the change was much better than swinging around out here. Jacob could see it from where he haplessly dangled from the ring, taunting him with its proximity. He looked back at the metal, able to see minute scratches and nicks in it, from years of being used by Dean to pop open beers, marks that Jacob would never be able to pinpoint if he were his proper size.   
  
That hoop of metal was the only thing keeping Jacob from dying.  
  
Even with his weight so reduced, hanging there by just his hands was putting a strain on his small arms. He kicked his legs, striking the thick bases of Dean's slightly-curled fingers as hard as he could, trying desperately to catch Dean’s attention. All it would take was one move, one  _twitch_  in the wrong direction to make Jacob slip and go diving to his death.  
  
His kicks had no effect. He might as well have been kicking a concrete wall for all the impression he managed to make against the thick, callused skin. Jacob grunted with the exertion, trying anyway. Every instant that he dangled there while the cashier took his sweet-ass time arranging Dean's purchase  _just so_  was an instant that Jacob came closer to his meager luck running out. The impatient twitches of Dean’s fingers as he waited weren’t helping at all.  
  
Jacob was just too  _small_  for this.  
  
Dean's hand moved again without any warning. It shot straight upwards at a speed that nearly gave Jacob whiplash. He was dragged upwards with it, but one of his hands slipped off the ring from the suddenness.  
  
For a terrifying second that lasted a lifetime, Jacob resisted the relentless pull of gravity with a one-handed grip on the ring, desperately maintaining his hold. His life depended on it. He flailed his legs in pure panic, ready to let loose a desperate, impossible-to-notice cry if he fell. Even the counter was too far below him to be safe. The open air gaped beneath his boots as they kicked.  
  
His other hand managed to regain a tenuous grasp on the ring in time for Dean's now-upside down hand to stretch open a little, forming a callused ceiling. Jacob whipped his gaze around to see what he was reaching for.   
  
His face paled at the sight of the cardboard case of beer.  
  
Dean obviously had no idea that Jacob was hanging desperately from his ring. In a relentless motion Jacob could do nothing to prevent, he would wrap his hand around the top of that case in a sure grip to make sure he didn't drop the glass bottles that glistened with condensation and promised a fine locally-brewed pale ale on the label. It was a simple and ordinary motion that would have devastating consequences for the downsized person clinging to his ring. Even at his truly tiny size, Jacob wouldn't be able to count on being able to wedge himself in the curve of Dean's fingers to avoid being crushed.   
  
It was hard for Jacob to be pleased that Dean had remembered his beer recommendation when he was about to be crushed without remorse into it by an all-too-solid grip. He felt a yelp of fear choke in his throat as the hand he clung to began its inexorable pass over the carton.   
  
One of Dean's fingertips barely brushed a bottlecap and the beer clinked loudly against its neighbor. The sound was like a church bell ringing loudly and insistently through the air, mixing with the panic bells that were already chiming in Jacob's head.  
  
Jacob's options had dwindled to two very bad choices, and he took the one that only  _might_  kill him. Possibly.  
  
He let go of Dean's ring.   
  
Plummeting into one of the compartments holding a beer bottle, Jacob slammed into the curved glass with a rush of air knocked from his lungs. Luckily the jump wasn’t far, or he might have broken something.  
  
The condensation on the bottle soaked the front of his clothes immediately and Jacob couldn't help but shiver. He was almost small enough to get stuck to the condensation on the bottle, and it was barely enough that he could control his slide into the cardboard section. The chilled glass stole away all of his warmth as he moved down the side of the bottle into a corner of the carton. At least there he had a space to wedge himself into that didn't risk squashing him.  
  
Jacob groaned in annoyance, exasperation, and exhaustion as the case began to swing at Dean's side. Looking up, his decision to drop into the carton was affirmed when he saw how Dean's powerful hand was wrapped around the handle of the carton. Jacob wouldn't have stood a chance and Dean never would have noticed until it was too late. He shivered from more than just the cold as he thought of how hard he'd just had to work to simply  _not die._  
  
At the bottom of the carton with monolithic glass bottles dripping softball-sized condensation all around him, Jacob gripped part of a folded flap that made the shape of the container to avoid being tossed too much as he swung back and forth, back and forth. The bell of the convenience store bade them farewell and Jacob clenched his jaw. The gentle sounds of the outdoors didn't offer any comfort. He flinched every time he heard a gargantuan car thunder past on the nearby highway.  
  
The holes in the carton offered Jacob one bare glimpse of the Impala as Dean walked briskly towards it. The shiny black car, meticulously well-cared for by the man carrying the beer, was a welcome sight despite being more immense than Jacob could really fathom. He tried to stop shuddering, from more than the chilled ale next to him stealing all of his warmth, and leaned his head back against the cardboard wall that currently kept him hidden. He sighed. The ride in the beer carton was bumpy and claustrophobic, but at least he wasn't dangling precariously over an endless drop.  
  
Something was seriously wrong with his life right now if that was the best case scenario he could come up with.  
  
The car door opened. Jacob frowned faintly as he looked up and saw that Dean was stowing the carton of beer on the floor in the backseat of the Impala, the distant eyes never once straying over his hiding spot and realizing his plight. He knew that putting the carton there was the wise thing to do, but it still irked him that he'd be waiting unnoticed on the floor of the gigantic car for the ride to the motel. Jacob knew he'd hear the road surging past beneath them, closer than ever. Hopefully Dean wouldn't roll over a pothole.  
  
The harrowing ordeal left Jacob weak in the knees. Crossing his arms, he tried to settle in even as the enormous doors above slammed shut, a concussive wave of sound washing over him. The car rocked as Dean slid into the driver's seat, the titanic weight of the hunter more than enough to jar the entirety of the metallic behemoth they traveled within. Beer bottles shifted threateningly, faint tinkling noises accompanying whenever they bumped together.  
  
Bowman, unaware of his friend's current plight and otherwise quite ready to be free of the blasted pocket, practically spilled out of it when Dean was seated. He fluttered up in front of the hunter to pass him on the way to his spot above the radio, the tip of a wing just barely brushing the front of the thick jacket Dean always wore. Best to do that before Dean was moving the Impala, as he knew the human would gripe at him for being a distraction.  
  
He sat down on the dashboard with a huff, only twitching a little as the the Impala roared to life again. "It was cold in there," he complained, quite glad to have left the strangely fake bright lights of that store. What little light had leaked into his pocket hiding place had fallen on his wings and provided none of the warmth it promised.  
  
Sam grinned as he climbed out of his own pocket, getting up to Dean’s shoulder even as the car turned on. “The building’s cold because of all that beer they’ve got in there,” he informed the sprite. “It wouldn’t taste as good if it was  _warm_  now, would it?” He couldn’t help needling the sprite, remembering how much Bowman had enjoyed alcohol anytime he’d drank with them, including the first night they’d kidnapped him. Sam didn’t remember much of that night. He’d been injured and exhausted, slipping into sleep next to Dean’s protective shadow long before the others had gone to bed.  
  
Dean shifted the car into drive, pulling swiftly out of the almost empty parking lot. “At least you were in a pocket,” he pointed out a little grumpily. “It could have been much colder if you were out in the open with me.” Bowman always found something to gripe at to Dean. After Dean's retort, the sprite smirked and rolled his bright green eyes.  
  
It was only two turns to the motel, and one obnoxiously long wait at a red light right near the entrance. With any luck the car that was pulled up next to them throughout the wait would think Bowman was just a decoration on the front dash, like a hula dancer with little green wings. At least he was zoning out in the sunlight, which tended to leave the sprite motionless.  
  
With the parking lot empty at the motel in the early afternoon, Dean didn’t bother telling anyone to get in a pocket. He just let Bowman perch on the opposite shoulder from Sam, hiding his tightly folded green wings in the shadow of the tall jacket collar.  
  
It only took a moment to gather up the food and beer from the back seat of the car and he strode over to the door. He tucked the beer under his arm so he could grab the room key from his pocket. He and Sam had stopped by just long enough to check in and dump the unnecessary stuff off. Setting up base camp was one of the first things they always did in town, and even if there had ended up being no real case, it would be hard not to take advantage of a chance to visit the Wellwood.  
  
Finally in the room, it was only a few more steps before he was at the table where he'd left his laptop. He set down the beer and food and let Sam disembark, climbing deftly down his arm and landing on the table with a small thud not far from the six pack.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob thought he might be getting a little better at bracing himself for erratic movement. From the sound of the bickering in the car ride, they'd never realized that he wasn't in Dean's pocket. The six pack of beer getting scooped up again almost didn't surprise him. He still sprawled over in his safe little corner, but he had at least seen it coming. The crackling of the plastic bag hanging nearby was loud in his ears.   
  
 _Almost there,_  he encouraged himself.  
  
Of course, when Dean momentarily tucked the blessed drink under his arm, the bottles pressed closer together and Jacob drew his legs and arms in, huddling in as small of a ball as he could, which was incredibly small indeed. He worried the glass towers would shift enough to press him into the cardboard wall before he had a chance to scurry out of the way. Thankfully, they didn't.  
  
He sprawled again when the motion stopped abruptly. The bottles clinked together overhead but Jacob hardly cared. He knew solid ground when he felt it. He didn't even care that it was probably a table higher up than a downtown apartment building. He wasn't swaying or swinging or dangling anymore. That, by itself, was almost worthy of a drink.  
  
Jacob heard the rustle of wings as Bowman landed on the table, and guessed that Sam had to be nearby too. He shoved his way between two beer bottles, wincing as the squeeze was tight around him. He almost didn't fit, and worried that he'd get stuck between them until Dean pulled one free of the carton. In that case, Jacob would have to pray that the titanic hunter didn't accidentally push them  _closer_  together. There'd be a broken Jacob stuck to the bottle he chose.   
  
Jacob got more condensation on his clothes from the dripping bottles, but he paid it no mind. He found the opening in the cardboard and clambered over it, practically spilling onto the hard surface of the table.  
  
Dean had no idea of the trials that his friend had gone through in the last few hours (most caused by  _him_ , even though they had all been accidents) as he straightened and pinched open his side pocket to fetch the downsized hunter and finally let him out into the light. He was frowning in confusion and a sudden worry at the sight of an empty pocket even as the tiny figure squirmed his way out of the six pack of beer, almost collapsing.  
  
The only thing that stopped Jacob from collapsing in a heap was the fact that Sam, catching sight of movement in the corner of his eyes, spotted him first. With instincts wary from years of being small and easily attacked by bugs or spiders, the movement was practically a spotlight to him. His eyes widened when he saw the familiar black hoodie and jeans stumble out. In his periphery, Bowman's wings actually flared out in sheer surprise, but Sam ignored the sprite.  
  
Lunging forward, Sam managed to slip a hand underneath Jacob’s body seconds before he hit the wood tabletop. As disturbing as it was to realize that his hand could almost wrap around Jacob’s body without a problem, he was thankful that he’d kept his friend from getting hurt more. There were a few bruises showing on the fragile little guy,  which wasn’t a surprise considering where he’d just come from. The hard glass of the bottles wouldn't be kind to someone Sam or Bowman's size, and Jacob was barely over a third of that.  
  
“Jacob!” Sam managed to gasp out in surprise.   
  
He was aware of his brother in the background, gaping in surprise at the sight. Dean suddenly dropped down without warning, squatting on the floor to see what was happening on the table below. The furniture rattled from his sudden movement, followed by a rush of displaced air.  
  
“Are you okay?” Sam asked as he carefully helped Jacob find his feet. One hand stayed on Jacob the entire time, ready to catch him if he stumbled again. His thin little jacket, normally so thick to Sam, was soaked through with cold condensation. Sam felt the occasional tremor work through the small body as it fought off the chill. “What happened? How did you get from the pocket to there?” He almost wanted to give the guy a hug, shocked at how beat up and  _frail_  he seemed  
  
Bowman rushed over, not far behind Sam, and crouched near his small friend as he regained his feet. There was a definite unsteadiness to Jacob’s stance as his knees shook, and he was damp from the water collecting on the beer bottles. Bowman waited patiently for once, letting Jacob take his time to answer Sam's questions.  
  
Jacob sighed in relief, glad that he had his friends' attention again. When they didn't know where he was, it was extremely hard to alert them, as he'd just learned in the most terrifying crash course ever. Jacob pushed past the thought that he had very nearly died or been handed off to a complete stranger all because his  _voice_  hadn't been loud enough.  
  
He looked between the faces of his friends, comforted by the weight of a large hand on his back despite the fact that it would be big enough to hoist him up around his waist if Sam so chose. He shrugged faintly and offered a weak, sheepish grin.  
  
"Well, uh. I guess that's a story, isn't it?" he said, trying to speak up in the hope that Dean, his worried face hovering by the edge of the table, could hear. He had no idea if it worked.  
  
Bowman rolled his eyes. Jacob was stalling just like he'd done before, when telling Sam and Dean about his shrinking. With a smirk, he tried to break some of the tension that was clear around the guy and said "Well, yeah, this is why we're asking. You always tell me humans don't have magic, so you didn't get over there that way, didja?"  
  
Jacob rolled his eyes. "No, I didn't get over there by magic. I, uh," he paused again to rub his arm absently. Both of the well-trained limbs still felt the strain of dangling from Dean's ring just a bit ago. There was no point in hiding what happened. "Dean's money was in the pocket I picked and I couldn't yell loud enough to let you guys know. So ... when he went to pay for the beer, I almost went along with the rest of the cash. Had to jump into that box before anything happened."  
  
Jacob had cut out a considerable amount of his terrifying escapade in the convenience store. Judging by the worry on their faces, they didn't need to know what he'd gone through. Nothing had come of it, so there was no point in dwelling on it. He had to hope his almost-lie wasn't noticeable, since Jacob wasn't the best at hiding the truth. Bowman, at least, seemed bemused but not suspicious. Dean, the master of deceit among the group, was too big to read his face and see any tells that would give him away.  
  
Dean blanched at that. If Jacob had almost gone with the money...  _Fuck._  He'd been stuck talking to the cashier long before his hand had gone close to the beer again. "Shit..." he said, his voice low. "Jacob, I..." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I  _fucked up,_ " he managed to get out.   
  
Jacob had been in the money... Dean had never even  _seen_  the kid on his hand when he was counting out his cash and tossing his extra change at the cashier. Tipping the lot of it onto a stranger's waiting hand with no idea that his friend, someone who was  _counting on him,_  literally hung on for dear life.  
  
Suddenly unsteady, Dean grabbed a chair and dragged it over, sitting down before his legs collapsed from under him. He put his arms on the table, leaning his head on them while he calmed his shaky breathing. From here, he would be able to hear Jacob talking, at least.  
  
And maybe they wouldn't see how distraught he was after realizing he'd almost betrayed the trust of one of his closest friends in such short, innocuous moments.  
  
Sam only glanced up at Dean for a moment before he was focusing on Jacob again, prioritizing automatically. "Okay," he said. "What's important is that you're alright and you didn't get lost or injured,"  _or dead,_  Sam's mind filled in for him. "But I think we can agree that you shouldn't be on your own. You need to stick with me or Bowman at all times, Jacob. If Dean can't notice you or hear you, you need to stay with someone that can." Sam's tone brooked no room for arguments. If Jacob didn't want to follow through with what he said, he had no problem shadowing him anyway. It would be for his own good.  
  
Jacob pursed his lips. He didn't particularly like what he was hearing, if only because it was like being told how weak and completely helpless he was. Even worse, he knew it was true. He  _was_  weak, and he  _was_  helpless. He'd managed to save his own ass by sheer luck. He never wanted to find himself at the mercy of an unaware titan again. As much as it pained him to realize it, Dean was dangerous to him with such a difference in their sizes.  
  
Looking at the brothers that both stood so high above him, Jacob thought about past cases he'd worked with them. The truth in Sam's words was doubly frustrating now. He'd fought vampires and zombies with them, tenacious and strong enemies. Jacob had spent a lot of time working on building his strength even before he knew about the hunter lifestyle. He was  _supposed_  to be strong.  
  
As it was, now he could hardly lift a quarter without some strain and his best kicks were so feeble that Dean couldn't feel them. It may be filling Dean with guilt that he was an actual danger to Jacob now, but it filled Jacob with discouraging thoughts. He had fought alongside Dean, learned a lot from the more seasoned hunter about saving innocent people from the supernatural. He trusted Dean with his life.  
  
And now he'd have to be cautious around his best friend just on principle. Because an unthinking sigh might knock Jacob off his feet. He brushed a hand back through his hair, a certain resignation in his demeanor. "Yeah, you're pretty much right," he agreed. Then, he shrugged and looked over to Dean, meeting the remorseful gaze. "That wasn't your fault dude, okay? I'm fine, definitely ready for a beer, but fine, alright?"  
  
“I think we can manage a beer,” Dean replied, his voice wavering a little. He sat up, his face falling a little that even just that much distance dropped Jacob’s expression almost out of sight. His face was only easy to find because of the black hoodie he wore. “Maybe some food will help out too.”  
  
He reached over their heads, snagging the closest bottle. With an easy motion, he popped off the cap with his silver ring. When he put the bottle cap down on the table near everyone, he stared at it in dismay. Its width was over half Jacob’s size. Even something like that would be unusable for the guy to drink out of. It’d be like trying to pick up a washbasin to drink from it.  
  
Sam came to Dean’s rescue. Releasing Jacob’s shoulder at last, he gave a confident grin. “I have just the thing.” He sat down cross legged on the table, letting his satchel slip onto his lap in one easy motion. He only had to dig through it for a moment before he came up with a small sheaf of aluminum foil that he’d saved. His expression turned sheepish. “I got this from Bobby’s last time we visited. He didn’t mind me taking a few pieces. It’s one of the most useful things around.”  
  
While Sam was shaping the metallic sheet into an extra small cup, Dean went about the room. He stuck the food in the microwave, powering it on while he prepared everything else. An extra bottle cap was found for Bowman to drink out of, and the beer was portioned out for everyone, Sam filling Jacob’s cup from his own cap before handing it off. Dean filled his cup with most of the rest of the bottle, the red plastic hiding the tint of the dark amber liquid that sloshed at the top.  
  
Once everyone had their drink in hand, he offered up a toast. “Here’s to getting our resident Sasquatch back to properly towering over everyone around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't look down
> 
> **Next:** October 11th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	8. Differences

"A-goddamn-men to that," Jacob agreed, lifting his silvery handmade cup in cheers. He was so,  _so_  ready to get back to normal after his misadventure. Bowman shifted his own bottle cap (which was like a washbasin to Jacob) in an awkward imitation of the others, glancing at them to make sure he got it right.  
  
Jacob had to chuckle. Bowman at least knew what a toast  _was_  because he'd had it explained to him before. Multiple times. He was shaky on the purpose of some human traditions, and Jacob was often at a loss for what to tell him. After all, a lot of human traditions came out of freaking nowhere.  
  
Of course, in such cases, Bowman was never short of commentary on how silly that was.  
  
Jacob took a drink, slowly savoring the mix of flavors in the beer. It was a local brew, and one of his favorites. Now that they were all past the mix up at the store, he had a chance to appreciate the fact that Dean had taken him up on his recommendation. Bowman took a drink of the stuff too, and Jacob grinned to see the sprite's usual appreciative reaction to it. Seeing it in such a scale was interesting, too.  
  
Bowman smirked, taking a second drink of his beer before speaking his mind. "Yeah, we gotta get Jacob back to normal before being the tallest goes straight to Dean's head."  
  
Jacob snickered at that, but almost immediately after came a loud, incessant  _BEEP_  from the microwave across the room. He couldn't help a minor flinch from the noise and his free hand almost instinctively went to cover his ear. Everything seemed so loud at this size. Even the simple rustling of fabric as Dean shifted was sharply noticeable.  
  
Dean stood to go get the food just as a second  _BEEP_  went off behind him. “Y’know,” he jabbed back, “being tall never went to my head in the first place, small fry.” He left them for a moment to grab his food.  
  
Bowman, still new to a lot of human technology, had a lot of catching up to do. He clearly didn't expect the beeping, and he dropped to a squat in surprise, his huge wings flexing as he almost glared at the source of the surprising noise.  
  
It was absolutely wild being able to see the more subtle facial cues on the sprite's features. A distrustful narrowing of his eyes, the concerned pinch of his brow, and the faintest curve of the corners of his mouth as he frowned in confusion. Jacob was small enough to pick up on all of it now.  
  
"Don't worry about it, it's supposed to do that," Jacob assured him from where he stood. His eyes kept drifting over to the wings, which normally looked so small next to his hands. Now they'd be able to hide Jacob from sight entirely. And they looked a lot more powerful than delicate at this scale, too.  
  
Bowman rolled his eyes and set his bottle cap down for a moment. "Only humans would make magic machines that cook food and have it  _scream_  to let them know it's finished," he observed with exasperation in his tone.   
  
Jacob snickered again. He was glad that some things never changed. Bowman's insistence that humans and their technology were crazy and magical was one of the more amusing constants in Jacob's life.  
  
Jacob turned to look over at Sam, who, true to his word, was sticking close by in quiet watchfulness. Even seated, Sam was taller than Jacob’s full standing height. Even then, he was an expert at not drawing attention to himself. Jacob smirked. "For some reason I just thought of that time I almost knocked you off the alarm clock," he admitted.  
  
He glanced down at his hand, which he'd nearly bumped right into little Sam just reaching for something on the nightstand. He spread the fingers wide, only seeing how small they still were against the backdrop of the table. "... I guess I'd have a bit of a harder time doing  _that_  again," he mused ruefully.  
  
Sam held up a hand next to Jacob, marveling at the size of his own fingers compared to Jacob’s. “I guess so,” he said in agreement. “Guess this means I’ll be safe hanging out on the alarm clocks in the room.” Curious, he held his hand close to Jacob, wanting to see the difference in scale between their hands.  
  
Dean came back over with a plate stacked with a burger, french fries, apple sticks and the salad, watching with fascination as Sam held out his hand. Considering that Sam’s hand would barely cover the tip of Dean's own fingertip-- and that was only if he stretched his fingers out as far as they’d go-- it was nothing short of amazing to see it eclipse someone else’s hand, a hand that was so small Dean couldn’t make out the fingers from where he was standing.  
  
Dean put the plate down on the table, pushing it out of the way for the moment out of sheer curiosity. As lightly as he could, he rested his chin on the table so he’d be able to see what was going on without a problem.  
  
Jacob largely ignored the vibrations in the table from Dean setting the plate down and pushing it aside. He was too preoccupied with staring at Sam's hand, which was huge compared to him Sam had held him up with just one hand when he stumbled out of the beer container, seemingly needing no effort to do so. It'd be able to wrap around him with ease and lift him right off the table.  
  
He held up his own hand for a comparison. It was enough to let him almost entirely ignore the way Dean's awestruck breaths tousled his hair. Sam's hands were huge. Jacob felt like a child the way that his tiny fingers could barely even cover the larger man's palm.  
  
Bowman inched closer, too. It seemed everyone was curious about this size difference they were all being confronted with. Bowman knew he hadn't reacted the best, picking Jacob up without warning him. Looking back on the way his friend had seemed so distressed, the sprite felt remorse. He knew what it was like to be grabbed like that without warning, and he'd done it to someone else anyway.  
  
Jacob turned towards him, shifting on his little boots. There was intrigue in his eyes, eyes in which Bowman was used to being able to see the color more clearly. "Bowman, dude, gotta say, your wings look pretty badass. There's so many details I never usually notice."  
  
The simple curiosity was a relief, because he'd been so shaken at first. Jacob was still stiff and watchful, but Bowman wouldn't discourage that. It was good to stay alert. Even so, he reached one of his wings out towards Jacob, nudging his tiny shoulder with the edge of it. "That's what you get. But now you know, my wings are the best."  
  
Jacob grinned, surprised that the simple nudge from a leafy wing made him step back. They were so fragile to him normally. Like vibrant green leaves that needed to be well cared for.  
  
Sam sat back, watching Bowman goof off with a smile. Now that the danger (that they’d never even known about until the end) was over, it felt like everyone was letting out as much of the stress that had built up ever since discovering Jacob’s extra-reduced size as they could.  
  
He sipped at his beer, enjoying the smooth taste as it went down. Dean had barely touched his own so far, aside from the small sip during the toast. Sam had a feeling that the accidental endangerment of Jacob was eating away at him. He always took any mistake to heart, and a mistake with Jacob so small could easily result in a permanent injury for him, if not worse.  
  
Sam grinned up at Dean, holding out his own hand. He could see the curiosity sparkling in the big green eyes above and knew just how to distract Dean from his thoughts. Dean was endlessly fascinated by their size difference. “How about it?” he called out. “Let’s see whatcha got.”  
  
Dean arched his eyebrows at the motion. He didn’t want to risk crowding anyone, or making Jacob nervous, which was why he’d chosen to simply watch the others interact. But after Sam’s words, he could feel the curiosity in him bubbling to the surface. Unable to stave it off anymore, Dean found himself reaching forward with his hand, holding it stretched open not far from Sam and the others. “So, think you can reach the top?” he asked jokingly. Even next to Sam and Bowman, his fingers stretched up, topping out at around twice their height. He gave Jacob a confident smirk.  
  
Jacob tilted his head back, still thrown by the fact that a single hand was so much taller than him. He could feel the heat radiating off of it and see every single twist and whorl of the handprint. The heat was nothing compared to his few, achingly long seconds clinging to the ring or scooped up with the cash, but there was a definite warmth even with the hand a few inches away.  
  
"Oh, maybe," Jacob said in answer to Dean's jest. He lifted his free hand up towards the tips of Dean's fingers. Of course, they were much too far out of his diminutive reach. He sighed in mock disappointment and let his arm fall to his side again. "Guess not, man. Tough luck." He returned the smirk and took another drink of his beer. "We'll have to save arm wrestling for some other time I guess."  
  
Dean laughed at his attempt. “I don’t know, half-pint. You might have some hidden strength in there that you’re saving for a special occasion. Meanwhile…” Dean folded all of his fingers but one into a fist, holding out his index finger to Jacob in a gesture that was far more considerate of his size. The end of the fingertip hovered about an inch away from the minuscule hunter. “Maybe you’ll have a better shot at the top like this.” This time when he grinned, the smile reached his eyes, seeing that Jacob was becoming far more relaxed around everything. Including him.  
  
"That's more like it," Jacob quipped. This time he didn't hesitate to walk closer to Dean's hand. The fact that it was as huge as it was still caused a lingering nervousness in the back of his mind. He decided not to try to get rid of that feeling. It would be stupid to deny the danger in such a difference for any reason.  
  
Even so, Jacob was relieved to see Dean smiling, even tentatively. He wouldn't want his friend to keep feeling guilty over something that hadn't been his fault. It was no one's fault but whoever had left a mushroom around that shrank people. And they were on the case. The laptop - which was now almost too tall to see over - on the other side of the vast tabletop would be running their research and Jacob could make good on that promise to arm wrestle in no time.  
  
Meanwhile, this wasn't so bad. He knew now how careful he needed to be. So long as he kept his friends in sight and aware of his own location, he'd be fine.  
  
He held out his hand for the comparison, staring now at the fingertip in front of him. From the tip to the first knuckle was almost Jacob's body length. Jacob might as well be looking through a microscope. He could see Dean's fingerprints in stark detail. In fact, Jacob's own fingers would probably fit between them.  
  
Jacob retracted his hand and took another drink before nodding thoughtfully. "Yeah, you're right. I could totally take you."  
  
Before taking his finger back, Dean lightly brushed over Jacob’s hair in a lighthearted tease. The motion was as restrained as he’d ever moved, understanding far, far too well how easily he could hurt Jacob. “That’s the spirit.” He finally sat up, turning his attention to the plate of food he’d left to the side. By now the heat of the plate had tapered off, rendering the food cool enough for his smaller companions to eat.  
  
Sam stood as Dean pulled it to the center of the table, leaving plenty of space for where they were sitting. He took a few steps forward, looking over the food choices Dean had picked when he was left to his own devices in the quickee mart. Compared to some of the food he’d come back with before, this selection wasn’t half bad.  
  
“So, help yourselves guys. There’s plenty to go around,” Dean announced grandly, gesturing at it as though it was food made for a king instead of a burger and soggy fries combined with veggies and fruit.   
  
Jacob followed Sam and Bowman over towards the plate, one hand absently brushing over his hair. He still felt the lingering sensation of Dean brushing his enormous fingertip over his head, somehow not even wrenching his tiny neck. Dean was hard on himself for someone who put so much effort into taking care of his smaller companions. Since he found himself suddenly  _being_  one of those smaller companions, he appreciated the effort.  
  
Jacob wondered at the size of everything on the wide plate. The edge of it came up to his chest, so by the time he actually caught up to Sam and Bowman's longer strides, he could just see over it to the giant food arranged in front of him. Heat and the smell of greasy burger wafted over him, and his mouth watered. Being so little could drum up an appetite.  
  
Bowman picked up a piece of an apple cut into a reasonable size. He recognized the fruit from samples Jacob had brought on other visits. He was about to settle down to his food when he noticed Jacob standing next to the edge of the plate, eyeing up the options. "Want me to, uh, get something for you, Jacob?" Bowman offered, raising an eyebrow at his small friend (and wondering if he'd ever really believe that Jacob was small to him).  
  
Jacob glanced up. "Nah, don't worry about it." He waved a hand dismissively before crouching to set his aluminum cup on the table top. He stood up and put his hands on the edge of the plate, taking a breath in and releasing it as he hoisted himself up. He would start with one of those fries. He reached carefully towards the starchy food, balancing on the rim of the plate the best he could.  
  
He overreached his balance, which was more precarious than he'd thought. He managed to hiss "Shit!" before tumbling forward from his perch on the edge of the plate and right into the pile of french fries.  
  
Dean’s hand almost flinched forward at the sight of Jacob’s tumble, but Sam reacted even faster. He’d taken his promise to heart about watching out for the smaller hunter, and so was only an inch away when Jacob went head over heels into a pile of french fries all stretching out longer than his entire body.  
  
With a quick grab, Sam nabbed the back of Jacob’s hoodie. It took one smooth motion to pull him out, dangling him like a kitten held by the back of its neck. Jacob’s feet were only over open air for a few seconds before he was lowered to the tabletop next to his aluminum foil cup, hitting the ground with a light thump that was inaudible to Dean.  
  
Dean arched an eyebrow at Jacob. “You must  _really_  like french fries,” he drawled lazily, smirking at the sight of the bedraggled little guy standing down there.  
  
Shaking his head, Sam took a step onto the plate. “Maybe you should let me grab the food,” he laughed. “You’re practically tripping over your own feet today.” He grabbed a bit of the hamburger, managing to squish together two mini-sandwiches for him and Jacob, and grabbed a bit of the lettuce and a little fry. He left Dean to his own plate of food, ignoring it as it was dragged back towards the biggest hunter there. That food wouldn't be around much longer once Dean started in on it.  
  
Sam held out the food he’d grabbed, still trying to hide a smile as his eyes sparkled with entertainment.  
  
Jacob rolled his eyes, his gaze lingering on the ceiling, before he accepted the extra mini burger Sam had managed to put together for him. It was still a tad big for him, though Jacob would never turn down a bigger dinner. Something told him he'd need to stock up all the energy he could get.  
  
"That wasn't  _that_  bad," he mumbled, knowing the feeling of his face heating up and hating that he couldn't stop it. He'd been hoisted out by his jacket so quickly that he'd hardly even had time to realize he fell in the fries. It was a stark reminder of how easily Sam or Bowman could haul him around.  
  
Bowman finally allowed himself to snicker at the look on Jacob's face. It was a wonder he held it in at all, after seeing the guy hanging dazed from Sam's grasp. He sat himself down next to Jacob with his apple still in hand, ignoring the scraping of the plate being dragged away. "No, not bad at all," he said through his smirk. "Hilarious."  
  
Jacob threw him a flat look. He was keenly aware that all three giants in the room had amused gazes directed at him. At least if everyone was joking at his expense, it was a solid indicator that he wasn't in any danger. Didn't mean he had to enjoy being the butt of the joke without having his say.  
  
"Feeling the love, guys. It's a warm fuzzy feeling."  
  
Sam sat on the other side of Jacob, still grinning at how red Jacob's ears had turned. "Maybe we should have left you with Rischa," he said gamely. "You could chill as her teddy bear for a few days while we're out here solving the case for you."  
  
Dean picked up his burger, glancing down at the others briefly. "Jacob the teddy bear," he smirked. "Now  _that's_  a thought." He took a huge bite of his dinner, mulling it over for a second. He never would have thought of Jacob as an actual teddy bear before, but seeing him just about curled up in Rischa's arms... the title certainly fit.  
  
Having Jacob stay in Wellwood hadn’t crossed his or anyone’s mind. After the shocking change, their unlikely team was shaken. Jacob could have avoided the danger if at least one of them had thought of it, but they didn’t. It was too late now; Dean would just have to make sure nothing more happened to the little guy. "Maybe next you'll get a piggyback ride from Sammy here," he added as he chewed.  
  
Jacob sat down too, rolling his eyes at the jokes directed his way. He focused his exasperated looks on Sam and Bowman. The fact that pieces of food bigger than himself were just disappearing as Dean ate kept him from looking at the largest hunter in the room. It wasn’t Dean’s fault he was so much bigger than everyone else, but the action became intimidating on such a scale regardless of his intentions.  
  
Sitting down between Sam and Bowman like that gave him a weird perspective. Jacob had gotten used to being the tall one in a room way back when he was 14.  
  
Now, he was actually  _teddy-bear-sized_  to people who topped out at four inches tall. With the danger that he'd run into barely a few hours after leaving the forest, Jacob wondered if there was some truth to Sam's teasing.   
  
The sprites would have taken care of him, probably. He would just be carried everywhere by a little kid for days while Rischa kept watch on him. Sitting and having some time with his friends was probably better, and he could at least pretend he was doing something to help with his case.  
  
In the meantime, banter was the name of the game. "Oh, I dunno about that," Jacob quipped. "I mean I'm so heavy, a piggyback might be hard on Sam here."  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, nudging Jacob good-naturedly with an elbow. "I could give  _Bowman_  a piggyback if I tried," he snarked back gamely, knowing his own strength. "So unless you've been putting on some weight that you've been hiding, I'll be fine."  
  
Dean finished off his burger, leaning forward on one arm even as he grabbed some fries from his plate. "That would be a sight," he snickered as he ate the fries. "Sam with a set of wings just sprouting up the next time he goes climbing." He smirked at the thought, grabbing more of the soggy fries from his plate. Food was food, and he wasn't about to waste it.  
  
He didn't react to Sam flipping him the bird, continuing to contentedly chew on his dinner like nothing had ever happened.  
  
Bowman had to chime in this time. "Why would I go climbing when I could just fly?" he asked boastfully. He fanned his wings open again, playing along with the friendly banter shooting back and forth. He hesitated to close his wings again, because Jacob had looked over his shoulder to stare at them. He'd always been so fascinated with sprite wings. It was little wonder that his eyes kept moving to them now that Jacob could literally be wrapped up in one wing.  
  
After Bowman folded up his massive sail-like wings again, Jacob sent him a grin. "You could just try it for fun. Y'know, broaden your horizons a little."  
  
Bowman tilted his head, unfamiliar with the phrase. He chose not to ask, as he often did with weird human sayings. He'd just muddle them all up anyway. Instead he reached down and gave Jacob a poke in the side. It was sweet justice to see the small human balk away from the touch after Jacob poked Bowman so often.  
  
"Tell you what," Bowman began. "You try climbing with Sam and then try flying with me and you can decide which is better." The words were said mostly as a tease; he wouldn't really challenge Sam over which was better, because each was a skill the other didn't have.  
  
Jacob rolled his eyes and went back to work on his mini burger. His eyes drifted over to the vast plate, and his eyebrows shot up. The pile of french fries he'd fallen into had dwindled so fast. He blinked a few times as Dean's hand scooped up multiple fries and popped them into his mouth. Food a lot bigger than Jacob was whisked into the air and swallowed down with ease.  
  
It made Jacob glad he had a personal policy not to eat his food too close to the sprite village when he visited. Those little guys (well ... big for now) were particularly skittish about such things, as he'd learned clearly from Bowman when the sprite was convinced that Jacob and Dean would eat him. At least Jacob came into this shrunken state knowing the giant he was with wouldn't  _eat_  him.  
  
Still made it hard to watch the guy pack away the pile of fries that Jacob had fallen into earlier. He dropped his gaze to his own food, finishing it off and washing it down with the rest of his drink.  
  
"So, how're you liking  _Gamma King?_  Toldja it was good, didn't I?" he asked, chancing a look back at Dean when the fries were closer to gone.  
  
Dean glanced over at the small voice. "I have to say, it's definitely good," he admitted. He picked up his cup, glancing into the amber liquid. He took a small sip, "mmm'ing" at the flavor as the smooth blend made its way down his throat to join the rest of his dinner. He'd certainly be enjoying his drink that night. Licking his lips, he set it back down. "Definitely one of the better brews I've had. We'll probably finish off that six pack in no time." The last part was said jokingly. Dean was fully aware that he was the only one present that would make a real dent in their supply.  
  
Good thing he was the one that had bought it, then.  
  
"Who knows," he mused. "After we finish this case up I could always take some up to Bobby's. He could use a change from that whiskey he's always drinkin.' "  
  
Jacob snorted. He'd met Bobby Singer and seen his impressive store of liquor. He knew Bobby drank the milder stuff on occasion, but beer might as well be water to the guy. "There's an interesting idea. Good luck, I say."  
  
Bowman had not met Bobby Singer, this being his second time out of his home forest. He'd hardly even comprehended that the world was as big as it was. Before meeting Jacob and Dean, the forest pretty much  _was_  the world. He finished off his apple, feeling comfortably full as he picked up his bottle cap and resumed drinking the tasty beer. "What's whiskey?” he asked, curious.  
  
Jacob grinned and imagined Bowman trying whiskey. The guy would probably love it. He ate pine sap all the time. Jacob had tried that once, and had been unable to get the unbelievable bitterness out of his mouth for days. It made black coffee seem like a latte. But Bowman would probably be floored by whiskey. He had a hard enough time with beer. "It's like beer. But a lot stronger."  
  
"As in, it burns when you drink it," Sam commented. " _Especially_  the kind Bobby has. He doesn't buy the good stuff very often." He gave a little shiver. It wasn't his favorite drink. Either Dean had a stomach made of steel to be able to bear the stuff or Sam's size had made the effect more potent, because he couldn't manage to keep it down. "I'll stick to beer, thanks."  
  
Scooping up the remnants of his fries, Dean popped the last of his dinner into his mouth. The salad he could just stuff in the fridge for later and the fruit was just about gone. "So, anyone up for a movie?" he asked as he started to dig everything out of his pants pockets. Jacob's phone and wallet, his own cell and wallet, the keys to the Impala-- it all formed a pile next to the laptop. "We can start on research in the morning," he decided. "Give everyone some time to relax after all this shit that's been thrown at us."  
  
Jacob didn't answer right away. He was busy staring at his familiar phone and wallet, both of which seemed impossibly bulky to him now. He'd never be able to open the outdated flip device now. And his wallet? There was no getting that open, either. His arms were well trained and he had a good bench record, but at his current stature, Jacob's strength wouldn't even be enough to pull his ID out of the sleeve. He doubted he'd even be able to dial his phone anymore.  
  
"Uh, yeah, yeah," he finally answered distractedly, turning back to direct his answer so Dean might actually hear him. "Sounds good to me." He got to his feet and stretched his arms over his head absently. Even that didn't reach past Sam or Bowman's height sitting down. Damn.  
  
Bowman got up himself, but not before giving Jacob another poke on the side. He smirked as the small human looked up at him with an almost glare on his small face. Bowman was having a little fun with that. He was beginning to understand why Jacob did it so much. Not that the sprite would ever admit it. He'd never see the end of it then.  
  
Before offering a hand, Dean tipped the beer bottle over, letting the last dregs drip into his cup. The cool amber liquid was almost at the top, his small sips making no progress so far. He'd have plenty of time for that during the night. His stomach was pleasantly full. He wouldn't have to worry about getting drunk as fast like that. He found himself wondering if the beer would have any different effects on Jacob since he was so much smaller now. Sam always got drunk quick and Bowman barely had one drink before he had to be cut off, usually.  
  
Reaching forward, Dean unfolded his right hand on the table, grabbing his beer with the other. "I'll even let you guys pick the movie," he promised as he offered a ride to the nightstand.

[Artwork by caycowa](https://caycowa.deviantart.com/art/Speed-Commission-SPN-Dean-558363509)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toast!
> 
> Also, Jacob's not allowed near the food anymore. Mom-Sam strikes.
> 
>  **Next:** October 15 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	9. A Tacky Lamp and a Drink with Friends

Sam was the first on Dean’s hand, gathering up his satchel and his bottlecap with all due haste. Dean managed to avoid flinching at the feather-light touches on his skin as the small, homemade boots stepped up. It got easier as time went by to avoid flinching, but impossible to stop altogether.  
  
Jacob wandered over to the hand lying flat on the table, his emptied aluminum cup still clutched in his hand. His eyes invariably skated over the ring on Dean's finger, the main reason he was even alive at the moment. A simple accessory, something he only passively noticed on Dean most days, had become the difference between a chance at survival and a drop that would end in a dead and broken Jacob, while his friends never realized what happened to him.  
  
He couldn't help but notice that the hand was almost as thick as he was tall. It was easier to notice now that he was standing next to it. Where Sam had hopped up onto the living platform with ease, Jacob would not be able to get up there so easily. It was a disparaging thought, that he was so tiny even getting onto a hand was a chore.  
  
"Here, let me help," a voice from above and behind drew his attention. Jacob looked at Bowman, who was actually waiting this time to pick him up, though the sprite's hands were held out at the ready. Once Jacob saw them, Bowman took that as his cue.  
  
Jacob surprised himself when he moved his arms out of the way so that Bowman could get an easier hold of him. Once again he found himself hoisted up with ease by a  _sprite_. Wood sprites tended to be lean, willowy people, built far slimmer than even Sam. Bowman was no exception. Yet, just like before, he had no difficulty at all lifting Jacob off the ground.  
  
It was only for a second that Jacob's legs dangled freely. Bowman set him down on Dean's hand, and he stumbled. The surface was uneven and didn't have any give like it had when he was four inches tall. Jacob knew without a doubt that Dean could see him there, but couldn't feel him. His skin was too thick to notice Jacob’s weight. Even if Jacob pushed as hard as he could on Dean’s hand, Dean would have to concentrate with every ounce of focus he had to feel it at all. Jacob stepped over to the very middle of the hand and sat himself down before he could be knocked over by any of the minute twitches in the powerful muscles.  
  
With Sam and Jacob settled in the center of his palm, Dean lifted his hand from the table. Jacob's grasp tightened around his aluminum foil cup in one hand, and his other hand once again latched onto Sam's sleeve. The downward rush of air still tried its best to knock him down. It created a harsh breeze that reminded him of the chilled air in the room. He might have to ask Dean to turn down the AC eventually; it was hard to keep a good body temperature going at his size. Even his hoodie wasn’t doing as much good as it had done at his full, 6’5” size. At least Dean's hand was producing plenty of warmth, taking off some of the edge.  
  
Jacob swayed and almost lost his cup when Dean turned towards the nightstand. It was such a simple action, Dean pivoting his body around, and yet it nearly upset Jacob’s balance as much as anything. Plus, judging by his tumble into the french fries earlier, upsetting his balance wasn't hard.  
  
He had leaned on his hand, his cup pinned underneath. Jacob picked up the handmade container and stared at it, awestruck. Even with his weight leaning on it, Jacob had barely changed the shape of the foil at all. He was too small and too light to have an effect on  _aluminum foil._  
  
Just as before, Dean's steps caused his tiniest passenger to sway along with every move he made. Jacob couldn't help it. He was no expert at traveling by hand anyway, and he was less than half Sam's size. There was no way he'd be able to sit still like that. Sam might as well be an over-fifteen-feet-tall statue, standing placidly in a park on a calm, windless day. It seemed like nothing could ever budge him.  
  
Dean set his plastic drink cup towards the back of the nightstand to free up his hand, but didn't have his passengers disembark yet. He went to retrieve something from the duffel with his newly-unoccupied hand. Jacob was amazed at the hunter's ability to keep his hand steady and close to his chest to keep Sam and Jacob from slipping off. The huge chest arched over their heads, them watching from behind curled fingers as Dean picked out one of his t-shirts from his bag and continued on to the nightstand.  
  
Bowman was already waiting there for them when Dean set the shirt down for cushioning. He'd flown carefully to avoid spilling his remaining beer, and had still made it there before Dean. He was a fast flyer, and proud of it.  
  
Jacob gasped involuntarily when the platform dropped out from under them, lowering him and Sam to the small table between the vast motel beds at last. He got shakily to his feet, finally releasing Sam's sleeve so he could make his way to the edge of the hand again. He was able to hop down from the no-longer-insignificant height, landing in a safe crouch on the bunched up fabric of the shirt. It was a softer landing than in the pocket full of change, that was for damn sure.  
  
He settled himself down on the shirt before looking over the other things on the nightstand with them. The TV remote was several times Jacob's length and bulky. It looked like it had seen a lot of use because many of the buttons had their symbols partially scratched off. The alarm clock was a hulking black plastic thing with red, Jacob-sized numbers glowing on the front. He hoped it wasn't set. He'd never be able to depress the gigantic snooze button atop the device. The lamp was, on principle, tacky as sin with a lampshade fifteen years too old to be modern and about the same too young to look retro. The blocky base almost looked like a flight of stairs designed by Picasso. Jacob smirked, knowing Bowman probably hated the stupid lamp for having so many of those right angles that offended his sight so much. And of course, a water tower's worth of beer sat waiting in Dean's red cup next to the lamp.  
  
Bowman found a comfortable place to sit on the shirt with them, sipping on his beer. He had learned a few things since his first time drinking with the humans. If he drank too quickly like he  _wanted,_  he ran out of beer, got drunk, and had his supply cut off for being ornery, especially with Dean in charge of the drinks. Jacob knew his restraint wouldn't last, but it was amusing to see the sprite at least  _trying_  to pace himself.  
  
"Alright, well, let's see what's on," Jacob announced with a grin as he waited for Sam to join them.  
  
While Sam stepped off behind Jacob, Dean's other hand swooped overhead, plucking the remote control off of the nightstand. The television clicked on at the touch of a button. Once he was certain everyone was clear, he moved his hand off the nightstand.  
  
Shoving the pillow of the bed up against the headboard, Dean let himself fall into bed out of habit, and the action sent a rush of air moving out of his way. Both feet went up, crossing casually at the ankles. "Let me know when to stop," he announced as he started to flick through the channels offered.  
  
He saw Sam glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. "What?" he asked in annoyance. That glare always seemed to come with a lecture.  
  
"Really, Dean?" Sam asked, gesturing at the boots propped up on the covers.  
  
"What are you, my mother?" Dean griped. When Sam's bitchface didn't relent, he rolled his eyes with a glare of his own sent Sam's way.   
  
" _Fine,_ " he said snippily, giving in. Jacob smirked at the back-and-forth, enjoying the normalcy to be found in the banter. He was even tempted to play devil's advocate and point out that it wasn't like Dean's boots could get the old motel room covers any  _dirtier_.  
  
Dean pulled off the boots, one after the other, and lightly tossed them towards his duffel lying next to the dresser the television was on. "Okay, new rule.  _Sam_  doesn't get to pick the movie," he announced with a smirk sent in Sam's direction. He started clicking through the options.  _The Matrix. Jurassic Park. Return of the Jedi._  Well, at least none of the choices were bad. He leaned back against the headboard, letting himself relax while the others chose.  
  
Jacob didn't look at the TV right away. He was distracted by the lingering memory of the brief glare on Dean’s enormous face. Even though the expression wasn't directed at him, Jacob felt a shiver of intimidation like a snake winding up his spine well after Dean had moved on. He'd seen that look before. He’d been on the receiving end, in fact, grinning back at Dean for some joke he'd made. The logical part of his brain helpfully reminded him that it wasn't real, and that Dean wasn't really feeling any resentment. He was just putting on a show, like he always did. Dean would  _never_  threaten his friends, except in good fun.  
  
Jacob knew all of that and still found himself humbled. The intensity in those green eyes was much easier to brush off when the eyes alone didn't dwarf him. If he were to face a pissed-off Dean at his normal size, Jacob could probably hold his own until the guy blew off enough steam.  
  
Now, a stiff breeze could literally knock him over. Jacob was powerless against even a little girl who stood less than three inches tall. Dean's brief glare had sent a bolt of perspective right into Jacob's tiny heart. He was reduced in size beyond anything he could have thought plausible and he was weak and helpless. He could do  _nothing_  to protect himself against a man of Dean’s stature.  
  
As long as he was this size, he never wanted to see that glare directed at  _him_.  
  
He shook the feeling away and took a steeling breath, letting the intimidation die down as he reminded himself that at least he was among friends. Dean was surprisingly gentle for someone who looked like a skyscraper lying down on the massive bed; Jacob continued to be amazed that Dean managed to ruffle his hair with his immense fingertip without even knocking him over. And both Sam and Bowman, though almost three times Jacob's size, would keep watch on him. He was safe here.  
  
With that thought firmly in mind, Jacob relaxed on the soft cushioning of the t-shirt. The screen across the room was almost too big to fathom, and the cloth was thick and comfortable. While he tried to decide which movie he'd go for, he refilled his cup from Bowman's bottle cap while the sprite was distracted.  
  
Bowman was frowning thoughtfully at the movie options, clearly watching every detail while Dean flipped through them. He still had an uncertainty in his eyes that Jacob normally didn't notice. The human suddenly wondered how often Bowman didn't understand something and simply remained silent on it. He just assumed the guy always asked every question that came to his mind, because he did ask plenty of them.  
  
Bowman's eyes widened when  _Jurassic Park_  was on screen, depicting humans running away from gigantic lizards. Jacob smirked when he saw those leafy green wings go rigid, and took a drink while he waited for the inevitable question.  
  
Bowman was almost right on cue as he picked up his bottle cap without looking away. "Those are more illusions, right? There aren't really lizards that big?" The question came before a hearty drink of the beer, though one of his dark green eyebrows was quirked as he looked over the rim at the others.  
  
"Not anymore," Jacob answered with a smile, to which Bowman looked very skeptical indeed. Jesus. Even Bowman narrowing his eyes critically wasn't such a harmless look anymore. Jacob knew without question that Bowman would never harm him, but suddenly he thought he'd appreciate the sprite's potent little glares a bit more after all of this.  
  
"So you're saying there  _were_  lizards that big at some point?" Bowman asked, his gaze drifting to Sam.  
  
Jacob laughed at the suspicion on Bowman's face. "Yeah, dude. But we don't have to watch that one," he answered, knowing that the dinosaurs eating people would strike a little too close to home for the sprite, a member of a prey species. "We can watch some  _Star Wars_  instead so you'll be so confused you don't even know  _what_ question to ask first."  
  
"Hey!" Bowman blurted indignantly.  
  
Sam grinned back at that one. "That works." It was one of his favorite movies, too. He'd managed to convince Dean to use the name Wedge Antilles on one of the extra phones they kept around. It was one of the X-Wing pilots from the movies, from the same Red Squadron that Luke had flown in during the destruction of the first Death Star.  
  
Dean had rolled his eyes at his nerdy brother, but had gone along with it gamely enough, dubbing the phone Sam's in case of any emergencies. Unless it was charging up it stayed under the nightstand not far from his bed, giving him the ability to contact Dean in an emergency if they were split up for any reason.  
  
He leaned back, taking a sip of his own drink. "And yeah. Dinosaurs used to live on the planet. But it was so long ago that we've only ever discovered bones. They were far bigger than the Impala," he picked a reference he knew that Bowman would recognize, "but we'll never have to worry about them. They're long since gone."  
  
He realized that the channels hadn't stopped flickering. Dean was still rolling through them, waiting for a choice.  _Which means, he can't even hear Jacob from here,_  came the dismaying realization. It was a cold glass of water in the face for Sam. He'd never had an issue communicating with Dean despite the disparity in their sizes. His only time he hadn't been able to say anything at first had been with Jacob because he was so freaked out at being captured that he couldn't manage a word in his defense. The only reason he'd managed to say anything at all that time was the shock from losing his knife, his last connection to his lost family. The upset tone of voice, close to tears at the thought of losing his adopted family along with the last connection to his brother, had shocked Jacob right out of his line of thought.  
  
"Dean," Sam interrupted gently. The changing channels froze. "Jacob picked  _Star Wars._ "  
  
Dean glanced over at them in surprise, a flush rising to his face in embarrassment. "He did?" His eyes flicked back to the television, switching back to the movie. "Sorry about that," he mumbled, clearly upset.  
  
Jacob chuckled sheepishly, once again reminded that just communicating with Dean had become an obstacle. His tiny lungs would need to work hard to produce enough sound for the huge hunter to actually register. Especially with the TV on. "Hey, dude, no problem," he called, making sure to almost yell for Dean's benefit. That would take some getting used to. Jacob wasn't used to yelling. He was used to having a voice loud enough to be heard with almost no effort at all. It was fairly deep to go with his height, and he knew for a fact that Bowman called it a "rumble" on occasion.  
  
Now, his voice wouldn't resonate with anything. It was too small for it. Even Bowman and Sam probably didn't quite recognize the sound at first. They were used to him being loud even if he tried to whisper. Now talking normally was probably a bit soft for them.  
  
Bowman took another drink and his wings slackened. Jacob shook his head at how quickly the sprite was always affected by alcohol. He knew it was because of very efficient metabolisms- wood sprites could process more things than most creatures, and they absorbed alcohol like sponges.  
  
"What's the thing called, a flashlight? Are those things just special flashlights?" Bowman asked, clearly confused about the lightsabers on the gigantic screen across the room. Jacob snorted at his guess, only grinning when the sprite sent a flat look down to him. As Jacob had predicted, it looked like the tipsy sprite had a lot more questions than he even knew what to do with regarding  _Star Wars_. Jacob supposed it wouldn't help that Bowman hadn't seen anything else in the series.  
  
"Dude if flashlights could do that they'd run out of batteries - that's energy for them - a helluva lot quicker," Jacob quipped.  
  
"Why?" Bowman asked, his attention off the movie now (no big surprise - he couldn't follow it easily and he had already given up on pacing himself with his bottlecap of beer).  
  
Jacob grinned. When he answered, he made sure he spoke a little louder so that Dean could hear him. "Because if flashlights were lightsabers, guys like Dean and I would be challenging each other to duels all the time. Because it's badass as hell."  
  
Bowman rolled his eyes and shook his head. The sprite settled back on the shirt cushioning, letting his wings splay on the surface behind him lazily. "Humans," he groused with exasperation. "You're weird."  
  
"Well I guess you're not wrong," Jacob shot back, taking another drink himself. It felt really good to just sit around with friends and have a drink and watch a classic sci fi movie. Even though, he suddenly realized, no human in the room was the same size as another. That elicited a quiet chuckle from the smallest of said humans.  
  
Dean gave a half-smile when he heard the smallest voice pipe up, still thoroughly embarrassed that Jacob had to work so hard just to make enough sound for him to hear. “If lightsabers existed, we wouldn’t need an entire trunk full of knives and weapons, that’s for sure. Just a few choice surprises for a special occasion.” Compared to Jacob’s light tone, his voice was a gruff rumble. Dean laughed. “Sam could use one for a flashlight when he goes scouting in the walls of the motels we stay at.”  
  
Sam grinned at that as he settled back in his own seat. “That  _would_  be useful,” he speculated. “A rat wouldn’t stand a chance against me then.” It would be nice to have a reliable source of light, too. Far too often he found himself going down a tunnel that shifted closer to pitch black. His eyes were more adjusted than Dean or Jacob ever would be to the dark, but if there was no light, that was it. Even the smallest flashlights that they’d ever found tended to be bulky, and a lot of the time he’d rather have his arms free in case of anything attacking him in the depths of the motel.  
  
He was hoping to find more people like him living in a motel one day. So far, the only people he’d ever seen his size were the ones that were at his old motel, and there were only a few scattered families that called the  _Trails West Motel_  their home.  
  
One day.  
  
For now, he dug out his journal, planning on reading over a few things and adding in a bit of detail on their current case. He knew the movie by heart from when he was a kid, and Dean had put the trilogy on more than once for them to catch up on together since they’d reunited last year.  
  
After those musings, the group of four fell into an easy silence watching the movie play. The revelation of Jacob's new size had left him understandably frazzled. He'd already had quite the misadventure at his new stature. If Jacob had gone with Dean's money to pay for the food and drinks, who knew where he'd be this instant? If the cashier hadn't noticed him he could be locked in the change drawer all night. And if he did ... well, Jacob being bug-sized didn't help his odds.  
  
Bowman's eyes had long since glazed over. He was always intrigued by human technology. The massive light box on the other side of the room with its images of faraway places was intriguing. He'd had the concept of moving picture illusions explained to him a couple of times. Humans put a lot of effort into their make-believe.  
  
Despite the film casting its varied light out into the room in flashes, Jacob found his eyes wandering. He couldn’t stop his curiosity. The room was so unbelievably massive. The ceiling stretched far away in the distance, higher than any building he'd ever seen. The dark carpet of the room, worn out in clear spots from years of people walking the same paths day in and day out, stretched out beneath the nightstand and other furniture like a black plain. If he didn't think that the dustbunny war zones underneath the beds would tangle him up in an instant, he was certain that wandering under the furniture would be like walking in the biggest, emptiest warehouse he'd ever seen, with the bottom of the cheap mattresses forming a high ceiling above him.  
  
The view from the nightstand from a height three feet off the ground yawned before him enough. Jacob could only wonder what the room looked like from the  _floor._  A stray glance at the boots that Dean had tossed over to the duffel bag gave Jacob a certain determination that he'd just have to keep on imagining that. He did not want to be on the floor at any point if shoes that big were anywhere near.  
  
The music in the movie picked up volume and speed, drawing Jacob's surprised gaze back to the screen. The lightsaber battle depicted in such larger-than-life proportions might be one of the coolest movie-watching experiences Jacob would ever have. And he was across the room, a distance that for him matched the length of several football fields.  
  
It was definitely for the best; the sound surging out of the TV's worn out speakers would be like going to a metal concert if he were so close. It was like being at a concert as it was. Jacob wondered if everything seemed so incredibly loud to Sam and Bowman, or if he just needed some time to get used to it.  
  
_Time to get used to it._  Jacob hoped that didn't actually happen, but he had to be realistic. His eyes strayed to the side to Sam, who was scratching away in a journal that was now nearly as big as Jacob, with a pencil lead almost as thick around as Jacob's wrist. Sam had been human sized once. He'd been stuck at his current scale for  _fourteen years_  now, and had lived in fear of humans for  _most_  of that time. It seemed a lifetime away that Jacob had found the little guy sneaking around his motel room trying to get supplies, helped him find his older brother, and subsequently launched himself into the hunter lifestyle with the Winchesters.  
  
Jacob, at an even smaller scale, faced all of the same dangers that Sam and Bowman did, plus a few extra, and he had no idea if he'd be able to return to his real size. He could very well be doomed to remain the size of a teddy bear to a sprite or one of Sam's family. He looked pensively at his cup, the aluminum foil that he would hardly be able to shape at this size. Normally he had difficulty not  _tearing_  the stuff by accident.  
  
Jacob sighed tersely and forced the thoughts away. Another drink might just do the trick. He glanced aside at Bowman and found to his amusement that the sprite was already out of beer. He was leaning forward slightly, sluggish wings lying haphazardly behind him, watching the movie closely as the jedi on the screen danced artfully in their fights. At least he was focused on something instead of trying to fly on those wings while their every response was delayed. If the sprite took off, it would be a race against time to see if Dean could move fast enough to catch him before he crashed.  
  
Jacob glanced behind and found the tall red plastic cup that contained Dean's drink. He realized with a somewhat sinking heart that Dean had hardly touched his beer yet. A fleeting glance at the man's face and the rainy expression on it told him why. Dean still felt bad over Jacob's mishap with the money. He’d be beating himself up inside. Jacob would be surprised if he even knew what was happening in the movie.  
  
Hopefully he'd be able to forgive himself for that. It hadn't been his fault. It was no one's fault that Jacob was so small. They just needed to move forward.  
  
Deciding to help himself rather than bother the others for a refill of his beer, Jacob got slowly to his feet. It was cumbersome walking over the crumpled fabric of the shirt, and he made slow progress. Even so, he reasoned that he'd be back in moments and no one would even be the wiser.  
  
He didn't need someone to hold his hand just to get a beer.  
  
Jacob reached the base of the tackiest lamp in existence that stood right next to the red plastic cup. At least the kooky design formed an easy way for Jacob to climb up to the height he needed. He hoisted himself up step after step. He noticed belatedly that, this close to the electric device, he was warmed by the heat radiating from the bulb above. Jacob hadn't realized how cold he was. He continued to climb, glad for something he could do on his own and glad for the warmth seeping into his bones.  
  
He found himself on hands and knees looking into the biggest pool of beer he'd ever seen. Jacob smiled faintly at the slightly sweet smell of  _Gamma King_  ale that hovered over the golden liquid. The color of it seemed to darken the further down the cup he stared, until the plastic bottom was almost invisible.  
  
It was still so close to the rim. Jacob would have no trouble dipping his cup in so he could have his refill. Obviously Dean wouldn't mind; it wouldn’t even be a drop to him. Jacob braced himself to do just that, leaning over carefully.  
  
As Luke started his dazzling display of showmanship over the Sarlacc pit, Dean absently reached for his Solo cup. Jacob had recommended the brew, after all, and the kid had good taste. The smooth flavor of the local brew might help him start to push away some of the residual guilt on his mind.  
  
He couldn't help it. All he could do was go over the scene in the store, trying to remember every motion he'd done, every move he'd made. Waiting for the cashier to ring everything up, paying for the food with the cash... one of his closest friends had been in danger because of  _him_  and he'd  _never even known._  
  
That change would have tumbled into that change drawer and they might never have seen Jacob again.  
  
His knuckles brushed against the nightstand, accidentally jostling it. "Shit, sorry!" he hissed to his friends, grimacing at the fact that he'd knocked them around. He snatched up the cup, pulling it towards himself with an abashed look on his face.  
  
He never realized there was now an unexpected passenger inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does someone want to try drawing the tackiest lamp ever? We'll even make it into the chapter artwork if you do!
> 
> Oh, did something happen? I must have missed it! On with the movie. It's one of my favorites.
> 
>  **Next:** October 18 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	10. A Whirlpool

Jacob hadn't expected an earthquake.  
  
Dean bumping the nightstand may have jostled Bowman and Sam a bit. Perhaps it caused Sam's current thought to have a wayward scribble over it. Maybe Bowman’s wings were rumpled.  
  
For Jacob, the effect was amplified. The vibrations from an innocuous motion shook the lamp that Jacob perched on and it bucked him off.  
  
He pitched forward in surprise, his arms flailing to the sides. His cup went flying, probably behind the nightstand, as Jacob fell face first into the pool of beer with an inaudible splash. The drink soaked him instantly. It was cold and it stole away all the warmth he'd just gained in the lamp light. Jacob's eyes stung even though he had them shut tight.  
  
He righted himself in the liquid and swam upwards, breaking the surface with a gasp. He blinked rapidly as he tread beer, his hair matted to his head by the slightly sticky drink.  
  
Dean's hand was rapidly approaching.  _Oh, great,_  Jacob thought.  _I'll never hear the end of this one._  He waited for Dean to scoop him out of the cup with one of his huge fingers.  
  
But instead the hand grasped the cup and practically yanked it upwards, the shadow of Dean's grasp visible through the plastic. Jacob was so caught off guard that he dipped under the surface again for a second, dragged down by gravity. He almost choked on a mouthful of ale before resurfacing, finding the surface of the golden drink far choppier than when the cup had rested on the nightstand.  
  
He floundered to the side of the cup. Or rather, he tried. The beer sloshed back and forth, doing its best to drag Jacob along for the ride. He sputtered every time some of it splashed up in his face, and it kept him from shouting to Dean. It didn't matter. Dean should notice the miniscule hunter that had inadvertently stowed away in his drink any second now. Jacob shivered from the temperature of the chilled ale, waiting with a frown as he tread beer.  
  
But a sound outside the cup made Jacob groan. Of  _course_  Bowman would decide to gripe at the human now.  
  
"I don't care if you wanna shake the table, jus' give us a warning first," Bowman challenged, getting to his feet with more difficulty than the average person should have. His wings flared a little, but not nearly as impressively as they could. "Look at you go, having buckets and buckets and buckets of beer. I dunno how humans can have that much of it and be fine." He almost sounded envious of the ability.  
  
Jacob rolled his eyes and kept trying to reach the side of the cup. He might just be able to reach the rim while the cup was so full. It sounded like he might need to - Bowman could rarely resist a chance at snark and Dean could rarely resist sassing right back.  
  
Dean arched his eyebrows at the sprite, completely oblivious of the inadvertent passenger in his drink. "Hey. I'm pretty sure if we compare  _my_  cup with  _your_  bottlecap, you'll be the one that drinks the most. I just happen to be a little bigger, so it's only fair I get more to drink." Finishing with a smirk, he lifted the cup to his lips while he teasingly kept his eyes on Bowman, only pausing for a second to take in the heady aroma before he held it to his mouth, taking a long, soothing draught of the amber liquid.  
  
Pulling the cup away, he let out a content sigh, licking his lips. "We definitely should get Bobby to try this. He can appreciate a good brew." He swirled it around a little, watching the rescue of Han Solo continue.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob flinched as the sound of Dean's voice shook all around him. He could even feel it vibrating through the  _beer_. Turning his face upwards, he could see that Dean's focus was aimed smugly at the sprite down on the nightstand. Jacob could just imagine the glare on Bowman's face as he narrowed his bright green eyes at the human. He almost thought he heard the flicker of annoyed, leafy wings.  
  
Even as Dean spoke, Jacob kept trying to reach the edge of the cup. There was no getting the man's attention while an argument with Bowman was forming. The pair had a lot of fun needling each other. Usually it ended with Bowman flailing around in one of Dean's pockets, trying to figure out how to undo the button from inside. The sprite was always helpless to budge the gigantic plastic out of its fabric housing.  
  
Much like Jacob was helpless to do anything as the cup rose through the air again. Jacob remembered the minor swaying in Dean's hand when he rode on it. That was nothing compared to the way it moved now, every little twitch and sway that Dean himself probably never noticed translated right to the liquid that Jacob swam in.  
  
Even though Dean's trademark smirk was meant for Bowman, Jacob couldn't help but feel like he was the one being taunted. He was keeping himself afloat, but his attempts to reach the rim of the cup were always thwarted by little splashes of beer in his face, getting into his eyes and nose and mouth. He sputtered, but of course he couldn't make enough noise over the sound of the TV.  
  
Jacob had a circular view of the motel room ceiling and Dean's face, framed by the cup gripped in Dean's sturdy hand. He could see the flickers of light on the faraway ceiling as the movie continued, and he even saw glints in Dean's eyes, reflections of the screen playing out tiny, warped versions of the movie.  
  
It felt almost like the view zoomed in as the cup lifted closer to Dean's face. Gravity kept trying to push Jacob back down into the beer again. His eyes widened despite the wind stinging them as the cup halted close to Dean's lips, giving him a closer view of that smirk than he'd ever wanted to get. Jacob stared in shock; Dean's mouth was barely more than an inch away from him.  
  
For a moment that stretched on for an age, nothing more happened. Jacob thought maybe Dean had finally noticed him. Then those lips opened at the same time as the beer around him shifted. A sudden glimpse of massive teeth and the gaping black abyss beyond gave Jacob an icy chill up his back that had nothing to do with the crisp temperature of the chilled beer. Seconds later even those thoughts were dashed as the cup inexorably tilted downwards.   
  
Ready to pour the chilled drink into Dean's eagerly waiting mouth.  
  
Dean hadn't noticed him. Dean was simply holding up the cup to take a drink with no idea his best friend was there. The shift of the liquid splashed Jacob closer than ever to the edge as the cup approached the huge mouth.  
  
Jacob floundered back just as a shadow fell over him from the cup's tilt and Dean's mouth settled over the edge of the cup, drawing in gallons of beer in a long, drawn-out swig. It became more of a struggle to resist the sudden current than Jacob thought possible as he felt the beer around him surging towards the lips that waited patiently at the edge. They were eager to welcome in the rushing liquid, the edges still turned up in a trace of Dean's customary smirk. Once past that barrier the pale ale would slip beyond the point of no return, helped along by an instinctive swallow and never to be seen again. He did  _not_  want to follow.  
  
Jacob sputtered on another inadvertent mouthful of beer as he struggled against the current that tugged him mightily along with it. His heart fluttered with sudden fear as he realized that even though Dean was just sipping the beer, he could easily draw  _Jacob_  unknowingly into his mouth.  
  
Jacob was so small that that mouth had become an open abyss, taunting him with the blackness beyond. The small current caused by his sip became an irresistible tide Jacob could do nothing to resist. He lost ground every second the draught lasted, the mouth and the blackness beyond growing closer every moment despite his desperate kicking and swimming stroke to escape.  
  
The sounds of the fight over the Sarlacc pit reached Jacob's ears through the crescendo of his fear. Suddenly the suspense of the movie scenes seemed like a farce. His world had become far more terrifying than any movie he had ever seen. Jacob was floundering away as an enormous maw sucked in more beer than there was water in his body.  
  
No movie would ever top the struggle to keep out of the inexorable tide, the rushing sound of the liquid that poured heedlessly down Dean's waiting throat. Terrifying gulps echoed up out of the dark cavern, reminding him of the final destination of the cup's contents. Jacob couldn't look away. The air in the gigantic plastic cup tightened to a choking closeness with the long shadow of Dean's fingers stretching higher as the beer level dropped, vanishing past the threshold ahead.   
  
Jacob shuddered.  
  
He knew Dean could all too easily drain that entire cup in one go, passenger and all.  
  
Somewhere in the back of his mind, even during the terrifying reality he was caught up in, remained the hope that he'd get out of the cup and the others would give him endless shit for falling into it in the first place.   
  
But right here and now, Jacob was afraid.  
  
After an eternity of his desperate struggle to keep himself a safe distance from the oblivious maw in front of him, the cup tilted back under the casual control of Dean, making a wave of beer splash Jacob against the side of the cup. He looked up with dismay once it was righted again, noting that the beer levels had dropped too low for him to have even a sliver of a chance to reach the edge of the cup on his own.  
  
After only the first sip the distance between the surface and the rim of the cup stretched the length of Jacob's body.  
  
Dean was barely getting started and he already had comparative gallons of the sweet ale nestled away in his immense stomach, never to be seen again.  
  
Like Jacob, if he didn't get out of here, and fast. Everything around him had a slowly shrinking window of time before it followed its unerring path into Dean, swiftly consumed to the last dredge just like every beer he'd had before. Barely even worth a second's thought once it was gone.  
  
Jacob's view of the room outside the cup was narrower than before, the absence of the beer Dean had just consumed making the edges stretch high above his head. He was hedged in by walls of plastic that would be too slick to scale even without the beer dripping down them. He could still see the thick shadows of Dean's fingers beyond the wall, thicker and longer than he was and far more powerful, unknowingly holding Jacob captive.  
  
Jacob wasn't generally a claustrophobic person, but it was hard not to feel closed in. He was thoroughly trapped and dependent on Dean to get him out now. And, though Jacob had a terrible angle on Dean's expression, he could tell it was unconcerned.   
  
Unaware.   
  
A sigh like a gale force wind fell past Dean's lips and Jacob had to squint as the majority of the air rushed down into the cup. The potent odor of the beer already clung to the hot breath that surrounded him during the gust, whipping the beer fumes around him into a hurricane.  
  
Jacob's legs and arms were starting to burn from the exertion of swimming in the beer. He opened his mouth to shout now that the cup was somewhat stable again, but the noise died in his throat and his eyes widened as a humongous red tongue slipped out of Dean's mouth to skate across glistening lips, drawing in any drops of the amber liquid that had escaped the steady rush into his mouth. It was gone in a flash but the brief sight of it set off the drumming of primal fear in Jacob's heart.  
  
He was in an  _unknowing titan's drink_.  
  
Dean started talking again after his casual sip, the sound of his deep voice echoing around the cup with an unfamiliar, frightening cadence to it. Jacob winced from the oppressive noise; his proximity to the source almost made his ears pop.   
  
One moment of hesitation had shattered his window of opportunity to yell for Dean's attention. That rumbling, echoing voice would drown his out completely.  
  
Jacob opened his mouth to take one more shot at it anyway, knowing it was his only hope. Before even a yelp could escape his increasingly-parched throat, the world shook back and forth violently. The cup jerked side to side in Dean's grip, causing the liquid within to swirl around the circular chamber in an amber whirlpool.  
  
Jacob was dizzied almost instantly and he was powerless to stop the movement as his tiny, lightweight body was dragged helplessly into a vortex of beer. He flailed his arms and kicked his legs in blinded panic, knowing it wouldn't help but trying anyway. He was inexorably snatched under the surface by the spinning current. With beer stinging his eyes and slipping down his throat, Jacob lost his sense of up and down for several precious seconds that he couldn't afford to lose.  
  
He twisted and struggled against the endlessly spinning pale brew. Jacob sucked in a deep breath loaded with alcohol fumes when he finally managed to break the surface again. His bangs were plastered to his face and he was soaked to the bone by the cold liquid. Treading beer was harder than ever as his limbs felt like ice, and his hands clumsily slapped the surface of the constantly-moving liquid.  
  
"D-Dean," he rasped weakly, his best attempt at a cry for help. He sputtered and coughed and the sound of the upswing in the movie soundtrack echoed weirdly in his ears. A shaky hand reached upwards in a futile attempt, as if Jacob might physically grab Dean's attention and pull it towards himself. The beer hardly splashed when his hand slapped back down into it.  
  
Jacob had only been in the beer cup for a matter of moments, but he felt like he'd gone through every ride at a water park. His normally-strong muscles were useless here. Dean, unaware of his hapless passenger, had no reason to think he needed to be careful with his unavoidably immense motions. When the cup swirled casually again, the current was quicker to drag Jacob under and he never heard Bowman respond to Dean's musings.  
  
The sprite, entirely unaware of his best friend's terrifying plight, was still getting over the smug glimmer in Dean's eye. Doubtless he was just rubbing in the fact that Bowman's cap was already gone. He made a low snapping noise by shaking out his leafy wings before folding them irritably.  
  
"Oh, I suppose this Bobby would drink away a washbasin's worth in one drink, too," he quipped exasperatedly. Sometimes it still amazed him that humans were as large as they were. Dean was lying right in front of him, his legs stretched far away on the bed, and it was still a shock knowing someone so  _big_  existed. "You featherhead, showing off."  
  
Sam, with no idea that his self-proclaimed charge had slipped off on him, just shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the constant banter around him. He should have known that Dean and Bowman would never be able to sit still and just watch a movie. As long as they were in a room together, neither could resist prodding at the other, either literally or just with words. Although a word duel usually ended up with either Bowman being poked or stuck in a pocket, left there until Dean got bored of his struggles.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes at Bowman. “I’m not  _showing off_  by just sipping my beer, small fry.” He let out a laugh as he raised the cup back to his lips, taking in a smaller sip. This one he held in his mouth for a moment, savoring the light caramel taste of it before he swallowed it in an almost inaudible  _gulp_. The rush of the liquid was a relaxing warmth as it slid down his throat and joined the rest in his stomach.  
  
He settled down in his seat as the warmth in his middle spread a bit, taking the edge off his earlier guilt. “I just think  _you’re_  jealous. You can only  _dream_ about being able to drink this much beer.” He swirled the cup briefly again, not even waiting for the small whirlpool within to subside before taking a long, steady guzzle, swallowing it down as it went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me and Neon should just... not be left alone with nice things.
> 
> **Next:** October 22 nd 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	11. Charybdis

Flailing around under beer, Jacob couldn’t make sense of all the sensations that managed to reach his tired, numbed senses. The turbulent beer swept around him in an unrelenting tide, and it vibrated in a familiar cadence that was Jacob's clue that Dean was talking again. Just the enormous, deep voice alone was enough to resonate in the liquid that Jacob fought with. He broke to the surface with another sputtering, desperate gasp. The swirling subsided for now.  
  
Just in time for Dean's mouth, still visible above the cup, to turn upwards into a smile as he laughed. Jacob grimaced from the noise and considered diving down again just to avoid it. The sound felt like a physical sensation as it struck the beer and Jacob's small body. His limbs were so thin that every noise Dean made from this close shook them. If Jacob's fingers weren't already numb from the cold amber pool he struggled in, he was certain the vibrations would do the job.  
  
And then Jacob's gut twisted fearfully. The cup was lifting again, beer sloshing forward once more in a wave. Jacob sputtered at the sight of that mouth that had recently swallowed down so much beer without any effort. The jaws opened, giving Jacob another up-close glimpse of the last place he wanted to go. The dark gullet at the back beckoned tauntingly to him as the jaw stretched open, a shadowed red cavern glistening past pearly white teeth and wet lips. Every drop of beer that had rushed between those lips had vanished as though it had never been there, the only sign of its existence the trace of ale on Dean's breath.  
  
The mouth closed around the edge of the cup again, sealing the organic cavern from sight. But Jacob knew it was still there, waiting past the lips that curled possessively around the edge of the cup.  
  
Waiting for the beer... and him.  
  
Dean took another sip and Jacob scrambled to avoid it. He felt his boot scuff against the side of the cup, courtesy of the tilt. With a desperate lunge, he kicked off the side, propelling himself away from where those lips closed over the edge. The color of the plastic ensured that the shadow over him was tinted red, which somehow felt fitting to the hellish fear that gripped Jacob tighter than Dean gripped the cup.  
  
Thankfully he found himself tilting back away from the enormous mouth once more. Jacob couldn't help but keep his focus riveted on those lips as they closed over the latest several gallons of beer, sealing them away forever.  
  
He saw the corners of those lips turn upwards as the titan enjoyed the flavor of the brew. And then Jacob took a shuddering gasp when he very easily noticed the gulping sound as Dean swallowed every drop of liquid in his mouth all at once. It sloshed down an invisible throat to join Dean's burger and fries from earlier, a hell to which fate was trying its damndest to consign  _Jacob_. From his far too close perspective, he could even see that throat flex as it took in over two dozen gallons of beer compared to Jacob, the huge gulp moving down to Dean's collarbone.   
  
Then vanishing.  
  
That thought brought to mind the memory of Dean easily snatching up multiple french fries at once between his fingers, a pile of food several times Jacob's size, and devouring them with ease. Anything that passed the threshold of Dean's maw wouldn't be returning, that was for certain. Jacob _had_  to get his attention before he got to the bottom of the cup and simply tossed everything back, including Jacob. At this size, there was a good chance he'd be washed down that throat with Dean none the wiser. The liquid wouldn't be in Dean's mouth long enough for the hunter to realize there was an extra passenger before the swallow was yanking it all down.  
  
Gone forever.  
  
Jacob blinked his stinging eyes owlishly and shook his head. His vision was blurring from getting beer in his eyes and from drinking quite a bit of the once-favored brew in a matter of seconds. The alcohol-induced warmth in his belly was not a comfort. It was blurring his mind at a time he needed to be at his sharpest.  
  
Dean shifted, relaxing backwards into the headboard of the cheap motel bed. Naturally his movement translated up his arm and into the beer sloshing in his cup. The cup moved about and Jacob actually lost sight of Dean's face for a second while he fought against the growing waves caused by the innocent movement.  
  
"You can only dream about being able to drink this much beer," reached his brain in a thundering echo and Jacob almost scoffed. Or rather, he choked on another inadvertent wave of beer.   
  
 _You have no idea how little_ anybody _dreams about this,_  he thought ruefully.  
  
And then the whirlpool returned.  
  
Jacob slipped under the beer almost immediately this time. His arms and legs were burning with exertion and shivering with cold. He was tossed in the liquid like a leaf in a hurricane, occasionally brushing against the plastic wall but unable to stop his dizzying motion.  
  
Being trapped under liquid by the mere force of that liquid spinning powerfully around him made it impossible for Jacob to get his bearings. It was little wonder that he never even realized the cup was tilting again, dipping towards a waiting mouth that was stretching open in early anticipation. He never felt the hot breath gust over the top of the pool of beer, sending small ripples fluctuating over the whirlpool that added to the turbulence he was caught in. With his eyes shut tight against the beer, he didn't even see the shadow looming close over him as a massive mouth inexorably closed over the edge.  
  
It was also not much of a stretch to believe that he didn't recognize the feeling of beer being sucked towards an eager mouth for what it was right away. How could he? It wasn't something that anyone would experience more than once, not with the end that waited ahead.  
  
Jacob flailed his arms and kicked his legs as soon as he realized that the vortex of beer no longer had the strongest pull on his body. No, now his greatest foe was dragging him closer with eager focus, ready to claim  _everything_  in the cup.  
  
Including Jacob.   
  
He hadn't even figured out up from down and he certainly didn't have time to dwell on it now. The surface might as well not exist. A far worse end lay ahead of him now.  
  
The only thing that mattered was not getting drawn in with Dean's drink. Jacob's life  _depended_ on it.  
  
That would be the end for him. One simple swallow and a plunge later and there would be no more Jacob.  
  
One of Jacob's desperately grabbing hands slipped over the smooth plastic of the cup, finding no purchase as he inexorably lost ground against a relentless current that was more powerful than a rip tide.   
  
As his hand slid along, suddenly losing contact with the cup when the current suddenly grew in intensity, Jacob lost the breath he'd been desperately trying to hold on to. The precious air he'd guarded bubbled away from him and his yelp of deep-reaching fear was stifled by the ale. He choked down more of the sweet liquid thanks to the cry he'd tried to release.  
  
Jacob knew without seeing that Dean's  _teeth_  had just brushed his side. His hand jerked away at the feeling of the smooth enamel that could bite him in half if he was caught between them.  
  
The current took on a different kind of pull, and Jacob despaired because he knew  _exactly_  what the difference was. Instead of the mindless circling in the cup, the liquid he was trapped in now had a specific destination. One that he was powerless to escape.  
  
Before he even managed to pull his head above the level of the beer pooled around him, Jacob knew he'd been drawn into Dean's mouth.  
  
With a gasp, he surfaced in a flooded cavern. He looked forward and found himself in a closed space, the beer in the back swirling into a deep hole as it was guzzled down towards an eagerly waiting stomach, gallons and gallons vanishing every second. The light in front of him dwindled in agonizing slow motion as Dean's lips closed, sealing Jacob in total darkness as the sip ended. The last light he might ever see, illuminating the walls of teeth above and below that was now seared into his memory, burned into his stinging eyes. He didn't need to see them to know that they were there, waiting for a morsel to come between them.  
  
A morsel like  _him_.  
  
The cold of the beer was forgotten in the sweltering enclosure. Jacob scrambled forward the best he could when the beer he was in relentlessly continued its swift motion away from where the light no longer shone, the ground beneath him tilting down the further back he slipped. It was clear where the current would lead if he remained in it. The sound of liquid constantly sloshing past the point of no return echoed around him in a terrifying soundtrack to how dire his situation was.  
  
In seconds, that wave would take him over the edge and Dean would unknowingly swallow him, consuming his best friend. Jacob would vanish without a trace. Without a chance of being heard through the solid wall of muscle that guarded Dean's stomach. Any noise he uttered would be drowned out even in that deep pit as Dean took another sip, sending a second tidal wave plunging towards Jacob.  
  
A low, sickening gurgle echoed up from the cavern waiting below as Jacob  _barely_  managed to avoid joining the tail end of Dean's drink as it fell into the abyss. He could almost imagine that the hollow, liquid sound was demanding more as it vibrated through his core. His hands clawed for support on slick surroundings as the beer roared past him, plunging right down to where Dean's mouth was directing it.   
  
The sounds of the liquid roaring down a vast throat he couldn't even see filled Jacob's ears. Far below, the beer splashed into the pit that waited for it, a crash echoing up the long gullet as the beer was accepted into the bowels of the stomach. He would have begun to hyperventilate if the muggy, tainted air didn't make him gag on every drawn breath. Any air that escaped from the stomach below offered no relief and the mouth remained sealed against fresh air entering.  
  
That mouth would be shut until everything inside was nothing more than a memory.  
  
Throat muscles that could snap him in half closed up as a massive  _GULP_  echoed relentlessly around him. His entire body shuddered as Dean made his claim on that beer final, sealing it off from the world as the unstoppable swallow continued to echo around Jacob. The wave of beer he'd been in bare seconds ago was driven ever deeper as the peristaltic wave continued downwards.  
  
The same way that terrifyingly immense gullet would soon claim Jacob if he didn't find a way out of the cavernous maw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charybdis-- Google it.
> 
> Also, let's all remember that not only is Jacob fighting the current, he's also unavoidably drunk after mistakenly inhaling beer anytime he goes under. Coordination is not happening.
> 
> **Next:** October 25 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	12. Down the Hatch

Focused back on the movie instead of Bowman, Dean watched as the triumphant rescue of Han Solo came to a close, the party leaving on their skiff with only a brief stop to retrieve the droids. He absentmindedly swished the beer that was left in his mouth from his latest swig, savoring it while the previous swallow settled.  
  
The beer was gathered to the side of his mouth for a moment, unknowingly trapping Jacob in a pocket of the liquid. It slowly started to trickle into his throat as his mouth relaxed, the beer sloshing throughout his mouth as it waited its turn to be downed. Any that reached the back was gulped down instinctively. He didn't pay the liquid in his mouth a second thought while the movie was on, innocently enjoying the taste of the hops the way he'd done a thousand times before.  
  
He had no way of knowing that this time was terrifyingly different.  
  
He lifted up his cup, already taking in another long draught before he'd finished gulping down what was already inside waiting.   
  
As the new wave entered his mouth, the trickle became a rush as a fresh helping of beer joined what was already inside his mouth, beginning its inexorable slide past the point of no return. Between gulps, a content sigh filled his mouth.  
  
All that Dean noticed throughout the entire time was the crisp flavor of the fresh beer pouring in and the relaxing warmth it gave him inside.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob could not believe what was happening to him. What  _would_  happen if he couldn't find a way to escape the terrible place he’d fallen into. The light from the outside of the sealed cavern left spots in his vision as he tried to keep himself away from the throat that would steal him away eagerly if he let it, reduced to nothing more than a tiny, unnoticed iota of nutrition for the titanic hunter.   
  
The lingering spots in his eyes didn't matter.   
  
His eyes burned from the alcohol constantly washing over them and he couldn't see a thing in the dark anyway. Couldn't breathe anything except the foul air thick with fumes and humidity. The oppressive heat was unlike anything Jacob had ever encountered before.  
  
At the same time, he knew that this toxic environment was nothing compared to what was waiting ahead if he didn't escape.  
  
Jacob's entire existence in the present moment was devoted to those terrifying sensations. He knew nothing else but the simple struggle to avoid being swallowed by someone who didn't even know he was there. Someone Jacob trusted, but who was oblivious to the battle for survival his miniscule friend fought desperately in his mouth.  
  
Everything shifted suddenly as the powerful tongue, a massive muscle far bigger than Jacob himself, bucked to life and swished the beer remaining in Dean's mouth all around it, bringing him along for a ride that was ten times worse than the swirling in the cup. Here, there was no rhythm, there was no sense of when the motion would stop and no way to know when the liquid he was in would be guided instinctively off the edge of that cliff in the back, making way for a fresh wave. If that happened, there was no way for him to prevent his tumble off the edge.  
  
It was only a matter of time.  
  
Jacob brushed past teeth and didn't have time to flinch away from them in horror before the steadily warmer beer swept him away to the other side of Dean's mouth again. Once or twice Jacob even felt part of him grazing the massive tongue that orchestrated the constant motion of the beer. He practically spasmed away from it, the horrifying bumpy texture putting ice in the pit of his stomach. That muscle could toss him to the back of the throat just by  _reflex_  and it was far more powerful than Jacob's entire body.  
  
If it found him... it would just assume he was food. What else could he be in here?  
  
The confusing motion stopped for a time, to no relief. Jacob was caught struggling in all of the pooled beer with no way to get air and he felt rows of teeth hanging suspended above and waiting below his current position. If those teeth bit down, Jacob would lose a limb at  _least_  and Dean wouldn't even feel it.  
  
The sound of the occasional gulp echoed through the liquid surrounding him and Jacob realized there was less and less beer, the flooded cave emptying as Dean began to finish off his sip, signaling that Jacob's stay here was about to end. His stomach twisted. That meant one of those echoing gulps would soon claim him as well...  
  
He finally managed to catch a breath as the beer sloshed around more, though it hardly satisfied his fiery lungs as he hacked and sputtered in the fetid air. He was powerless against all of this.  
  
Jacob winced when another overpowering gulp filled his ears as yet another trickle of beer disappeared down the exit in the back. The place Jacob wanted to avoid no matter what, and the place that drew closer even as the throat reopened after the last gulp, letting more pour down into the bottomless depths.  
  
There was barely a gulp's worth of beer in there with Jacob now. The end of the line. This time, there would be no escape.  
  
He used the momentary lack of a current in the suddenly still cavern to try to move forward, desperate to escape. Jacob knew it was only a matter of seconds before Dean decided to gulp the rest of the beer down along with his unintentional snack. It was almost as though he was waiting through the calm before the storm that waited below.  
  
Any second now ...  
  
Light erupted into the surreally humid cavern. Jacob almost had to close his eyes from the sudden brightness, when he had expected his life to end in darkness. It gave him a new glimpse of the hell he had slipped into. Teeth bigger than his head hedged the top and bottom of his prison cell, gleaming white and promising excruciating pain should he fall between them. Red walls, ceiling, and floor were slick with beer and saliva, much like Jacob himself. Everything seemed to throb and pulse around him, forcing Jacob's heart to follow the sickly beat.  
  
There wasn't much time. There was an opening, if he could just get there. Jacob scrambled forward, fighting gravity and what beer remained in the sweltering mouth. The air leaking in cooled his body and stung his eyes. Jacob's limbs were shaky and his head swam. He was getting drunk off the fumes and what felt like gallons of  _Gamma King_  that had washed down his tiny throat in unavoidable, choking gulps.  
  
The exit was so close, taunting Jacob's dancing vision. He reached out a shaky hand and fell over, submerging his head in beer again. He pushed himself back up with a sputter, soaked bangs hanging in his eyes. Droplets hit his head from above. A horrified glance up showed him that Dean's mouth was  _watering_  in anticipation.  
  
When he looked again, an enormous red and white basin was suspended just outside the mouth, revealing the reason for that anticipation. The reason the mouth was open. Time stood still for Jacob as his horror overcame him, the cup tipping gallons of amber liquid in a slow, relentless tilt to block his only escape route with a rushing waterfall.   
  
_Not again!_  he thought frantically, floundering to reach the front teeth and escape over them before -  
  
A tidal wave of sickly-sweet smelling golden liquid slammed into Jacob's small, weak body. He could do nothing to resist as it forcefully shoved him back with it, mouthfuls sneaking down his shuddering throat and strong currents pulling him away from his only safe exit. Jacob could offer no resistance to either, his coughing and struggling too weak to have an impact.  
  
_GULP_  after enormous  _GULP_  resounded around him along with the roaring sound of rushing air leaving as Dean sighed happily. Gallons and gallons of the cold beer rushed towards Dean's bottomless gullet, nearly taking Jacob over the edge along with it during the initial onslaught. He wouldn't even be a footnote in Dean's meal that night, digested unnoticed in a cavernous stomach full of soggy fries, microwave burger, and a pale ale Jacob regretted mentioning.  
  
He found the surface of the new, cold pool of beer just in time to see the lips closing again as a final rush of noxious air gusted past him, tousling his soaked hair in one direction even as the rest of the world seemed determined to force him headfirst into Dean's throat, taking the plunge, never to be seen again.  
  
The light vanished as the sigh ended. Dean sealed him in with the rushing rapids of beer once more. The last image of the light outside burned into his eyes again, beckoning him tauntingly. Freedom was so near yet so far. Unattainable for him now without help, his last hope slipping away even as Dean savored the brew that would cause his death.  
  
The shift in temperature from muggy and hot to crisp and cool with the new sip of beer almost stung Jacob's skin. He already knew what was coming, and he was powerless to stop it. But, all the same, Jacob threw his dizzy arms out and forced a tainted breath into his lungs in preparation even as the massive tongue bucked in the liquid once more.  
  
A whirlpool sucked him under. He was heedlessly tossed around in an irresistible current of beer again as Dean swished it around his mouth, savoring it with a disheartening "mmmm" of enjoyment that rattled through Jacob once more. That sigh chilled him right to his core faster than the beer could. Jacob doubted that the others even heard the hunter enjoying the flavor of his drink, but Jacob felt it in every millimeter of his being. Dean was out there, safe and comfortable, relishing the taste while it was all Jacob could do to not drown.  
  
His heart fluttered and it started to feel like he was merely prolonging his own suffering, fighting an inevitable fate. He was trapped and weak. He couldn't even fill his lungs enough to cry out in desperate terror.  
  
Jacob's body hurt all over from being tossed around. Occasionally he was jostled and bruised against the deadly white teeth as if fate wanted to literally pound reminders into him of where he was. His lungs were always screaming for better air, threatening to burst. When he managed to take a breath, his head free of the beer for barely an instant, Jacob had to cough and gag on the fumes that only clouded his head further. That was why he'd yet to successfully scream for help from someone,  _anyone._  
  
His pleas for one of his friends to notice his predicament were only repeated in his head because in here, Jacob had no voice. He was completely and utterly helpless and alone.  
  
He twisted his body and kicked wildly, despairing in the fact that he was struggling with everything he had and Dean still didn't even  _notice_  him there. Any second now, the strength would abandon Jacob's tiny body and he'd no longer be able to resist the constant pull towards the back of the mouth.  
  
As the liquid around him went from cold to warm, taking on the temperature of the environment in which it spun, some continued to vanish down Dean's throat. Every time Dean pulled a little more of the beer down his throat in a sudden tide of movement, a fresh bolt of panic inspired renewed struggling. Jacob's desperation increased while his strength rapidly decreased. His lungs burned and shuddered, begging for mercy that Jacob could not provide.  
  
Suddenly Jacob began to wonder if he would pass out and drown before the throat and the horrifying abyss beyond it finally claimed him. His thoughts shifted to  _how_  he would die, rather than whether or not he would, as hope began to abandon him.  
  
He wondered which way to die would be kinder.  
  


* * *

  
Right before he was about to swallow down his last small gulp of beer, Dean noticed a tiny bit of…  _is that food…?_  he wondered to himself. He poked at it with his tongue, moving it away from the edge of his mouth. For a moment he’d thought it was caught in his teeth, but it was easily manipulated. Once it was clear of the edge, his tongue slipped under, flipping it to the center of his mouth to make it easy to just swallow down.  
  


* * *

  
When it seemed there was little enough beer in the mouth for Dean to take another sip and start Jacob's terrifying game of Russian Roulette with the massive throat and desperate pleading with fate all over again, something different happened. Before, the massive tongue lurking in the cavern with him had shifted him around passively with the beer, forcing him to follow the current along with everything else.  
  
But now, the enormous and irresistibly strong muscle targeted Jacob specifically. A harsh poke from it knocked the meager wind he had left from his lungs and dazed the already battered hunter. It swept him up specifically now, ignoring the beer as it manipulated him clumsily until he was flipped right onto its center. The bumpy, rubbery texture seemed to pulse underneath Jacob's body and he shuddered all over from how easily he'd been moved.  
  
It seemed he'd finally been noticed, but not for what he was. To Dean, Jacob was indistinguishable from a stray bit of  _food_. Instead of reaching into his mouth to save Jacob, he'd adjusted the unexpected morsel right onto the center of his tongue so he could swallow it down with the rest of his beer.  
  
Jacob was completely and hopelessly powerless against it. The strength he remembered training into himself for years by taking good care of his body was nowhere to be found now as almost automatic movements in Dean's mouth left him helpless. He'd never be able to fight that throat if he was dragged into it. And that would happen all too soon; Dean had to run out of beer sometime.  
  
And Dean never left a drop. Jacob remembered having drinks with Dean and Sam after several successful hunts before. There was nothing like a congratulatory cold one after  _ganking an evil sonovabitch_ , as Dean would put it. For some reason, he'd never really put much thought or care into the fact that Dean would tilt the bottle and his head back to make sure he didn't waste a drop of the stuff.  
  
Of course, Jacob had never once thought he'd feel any empathy for Dean's  _beer._  
  
The constant movement of the hot, squishy surface beneath him, moving him about in threatening ways, ensured that Jacob's exhausted kicking and flailing were lost in the turmoil, splashing so weakly in the beer. Tears leaked from his eyes in a steady stream to join the rest of the liquid soaking Jacob through.  
  
This was it.  
  
Jacob was about to be sent to his death in the belly of one of his best friends.  
  


* * *

  
Dean swished the beer in his mouth one last time, then swallowed everything down. He held up his cup, swirling around the last dregs of his drink. "This stuff's pretty good." He tossed the remnants back, lowering an empty cup to the table.  
  
"Anyone up for a refill?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am drunk while Jacob is being drunk, it is fitting.
> 
> ****NEXT CHAPTER POSTING ON HALLOWEEN AT 9PM!!****
> 
> If anyone wants to chat about the stories, BA has a [discord chat](https://discordapp.com/invite/sjkqB9A)! Come join us!
> 
>  **Next:** October 31 st 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	13. Gone

Sam glanced up from his journal at Dean’s words, noticing Dean and Bowman’s drinks were both empty and Jacob’s was…  
  
He glanced around. “Jacob?” he called out curiously. He stood, slipping his book back into his satchel. A tiny bit of worry started to gather in the back of his head. He chanced a look in Bowman’s direction. “Is he sitting near you?” Maybe Jacob had just wanted to find a better place to sit. Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he was restless after the events of the day.  
  
Sam’s curious question drew Bowman's attention away from the TV in a heartbeat, despite the heavy drunkenness that settled over him. The action behind the enormous pane of glass over on the dresser had left him dazed, hypnotized by the constant motion and the words that he didn’t understand coming out of the characters’ mouths. The worried tone in Sam's voice brought him back to reality.  
  
"He's not," he answered, even lifting his wings to check under them in case Jacob had decided to play around.   
  
No Jacob.  
  
He got to his feet, swaying a little with the effects of the beer in his system. "Hey, Jacob," he called, looking around. "Where'd you get to?!" He couldn't see a sign of his downsized best friend anywhere. Bowman's heart fluttered a bit. He looked up to Dean to see if the largest human had any idea.  
  
Dean blinked back at Bowman. “You think he might have taken a walk or something?” He leaned over, trying to see around the tacky lamp to make out any small, Jacob-sized shadows lurking around the edges. “Fuck,” Dean said in realization when he saw the cords hanging down the back from the alarm clock and the lamp. They would be easy to climb. “You don’t think he needed to… y’know, use the bathroom or something and didn’t tell us?”  
  
He peered over the edge of the bed worriedly. “Would he have gone down there on his own?” From Dean’s point of view it was dark, and the edge of the bed and behind the stand was a gathering of dust bunnies.  _Not_  something he’d want to tackle if he was a fraction of Sam’s size, that was for damn certain. It would be more like a forest of dust, tall shadows lurking in every direction, not to mention the danger of being on the  _floor_ , of all places. It didn’t seem like Jacob to just wander off on them like that, specially after what he’d already gone through.  
  
Bowman sighed and let a headrush subside before he put thought into it. He wanted to believe that Jacob would stick by Sam to follow his rules about having someone safe nearby. Usually the human, all poking and harmless jests aside, would respect what people asked him to do.  
  
But on the other hand, Jacob had also taken it on himself time and time again to try not to be a burden. It happened a lot when he was around the sprite village. He was careful and quieted his voice around the sprites without needing to be asked. It was entirely possible that he'd go off on his own to avoid being a burden to Bowman or Sam, thinking he'd be able to come right back.  
  
"He ... he  _might_  have," Bowman determined, crouching on hands and knees by the edge of the nightstand. His wings were fanning open and closing slowly as he readied himself. "Maybe I should go down there and check..."  
  
Bowman was cut off by a massive hand wrapping around his wings and slim figure. He looked up in surprise, green eyes wide. A sigh rattled Dean's chest as he beheld the drunken sprite. "Not by flying, you ain't. Or don't you remember exactly how that turned out the last time you flew drunk?"  
  
As Sam swung himself down from the back, calling out for Jacob, Dean lowered the sprite down to the floor, ensuring that Bowman would actually make it down before Sam.  
  
Bowman scowled briefly and rustled his wings in irritation after Dean released him. He knew that beer made him a little shaky, but it was just a quick glide to the  _floor._  It wasn't like he'd planned to do any aerial acrobatics or anything.  
  
In a rare turn of events, Bowman was too distracted to gripe at Dean for grabbing at him. The human hadn't even squeezed him, after all, merely prevented him from flying anywhere. Dean was good at handling sprite-sized folk with care, thanks to all his time spent with Sam.  
  
With them on the floor and Jacob out of sight, Dean remained on the bed, leaning over the nightstand to inspect the area even more carefully. "Jacob?" he called out softly. Maybe the kid had fallen asleep somewhere and that's why he wasn't answering. Dean prayed it was something as simple as that, something as  _stupid_  as that. If something happened to the smallest hunter, they'd all have let their best friend down when he needed them the most.  
  
Bowman jogged around the back of the nightstand to join Sam just as the smaller brother reached the floor. He eyed the ropes that trailed from the lamp above critically. They mounted into the wall just above his and Sam's heads. There was no conceivable way that Jacob would have been able to reach that if he came down here. It was hard to believe he'd even come down that way, considering the drop was a lot more for him than it was for Sam. Over three times the height, and Sam had practice climbing constantly.  
  
A glimmer in a tangle of grey dust bunnies drew Bowman’s heavy-lidded eyes. His wings flared for balance as he knelt to retrieve it. In his palm was the shiny silvery cup that Sam had fashioned for Jacob. He turned his bright green eyes to meet Sam's, a worried question written all over his face. If the cup was down here,  _had_  Jacob really ventured to the floor by himself?!  
  
Sam felt his stomach plummet at the sight of the tiny cup in Bowman's hand. The sight of how  _small_  it really was, nestled on the palm of Bowman’s slim hand, took his breath away. At least when Jacob had been around with everyone, he’d been safe, the other three ready to help him at a moment's notice, but now...  
  
Sam twirled around, his satchel thudding against his side. "Jacob!" he hollered, praying  
his friend was alright, wasn't hurt or lost, praying that the cup wasn't down there because he'd fallen.  
  
A light shone from above as Dean tried to help them the best he could in places he couldn't fit. "Anything?" he called down.  
  
Sam didn't respond, refusing to give up hope that the small hunter was gone. Sam had lived at this size for  _fourteen years_. There was no way they'd lost Jacob after only one day.  
  
He ducked down to peer under the nightstand, pupils widening enough to nearly eclipse the hazel irises as he tried to see into the dark depths. "Jacob?" he called softly, desperately.  
  
With Sam checking under the nightstand, Bowman closed his hand over the tiny cup and held it a little closer to himself, feeling his heartbeat increase in speed. His best friend was nowhere to be found. Now, more than ever, he wished that idiot giant had  _stayed_  giant, because not knowing what might have happened to him and having him be this hard to track was agonizing.  
  
Bowman walked briskly towards the bed Dean rested on, barely glancing up at the light Dean shone down at them. His lack of words ought to be answer enough for the large human. When they found him, Bowman had half a mind to tie the miniaturized human to himself with the scarf he wore and not untie him until they found a cure, no matter how much Jacob might gripe.  
  
"Jacob!" he called, taking a few steps under the bed. The dusty tangles almost immediately clung to him like fog to the stream on a spring morning. He stumbled backwards, flapping his wings loudly to blow the things away. There was no way Jacob would have been able to navigate under there. Some of those dustbunnies were taller than him now!  
  
"Blast it, Jacob, if you're just playing around it's not very funny," Bowman called, his voice rising slightly in pitch with his increasing worry. Every second Jacob was out of sight was another second he was in danger. He didn't have any experience being so small. Bowman wouldn't even feel right letting him wander alone at  _four inches tall_. "You gotta answer us if you can!"  
  
But no answer ever came.  
  


* * *

  
While Sam and Bowman were down on the floor, Dean's eyes skated over the nightstand, desperately wishing he'd catch sight of one of his best friends, a kid he'd taken under his wing ever since Jacob had appeared on his doorstep, Sammy squirreled safely away in his hood.  
  
Without Jacob, Dean would still think his brother had died all those years ago. He'd still be caught up in his self-destructive guilt, unerringly blaming himself for a death that had never happened. If there was no Jacob, Sam would still live in that motel where Dean and John had  _abandoned_  him.  
  
Jacob sometimes seemed like more than a friend. He felt like a brother, part of Dean's small, broken family. Someone to rely on, someone that would always back Sam and Dean up. One of the only other two people in the world that Dean would entrust Sam's safety to.  
  
The memory of Sam standing gamely on Jacob's shoulder brought a fleeting smile to Dean's lips. The younger Winchester loved having Jacob around, especially since the kid would always defer to Sam and never grab him unexpectedly. Jacob looked  _up_  to Sam, even if not literally.  
  
They needed to find him. They owed their lives and more to him.  
  
Dean examined the shirt he'd left on the table, a sinking thought occurring to him. "Hey, Sam?" he asked the air, knowing Sam would pop out of wherever he was searching.  
  
Sure enough, Sam's head was peering up at him moments later, sticking out from under the nightstand with dustbunnies covering his hair. "Yeah?" came the soft reply, his voice subdued with worry.  
  
"You don't... you don't think he shrank again, do you? Only this time he's too small for us to see?"  
  
Bowman, prowling around near the beds to see if maybe Jacob  _had_  tried to venture among the treacherous terrain beneath them, went rigid. He stared up at Dean with an almost angry frown on his face. What an awful thing to suggest. Bowman almost shot a retort up at the human to scold him for his ridiculous theory.  
  
But then he stopped. And looked down at the cup still clutched in his hand. It was already small. Jacob had been hit with magic none of them were very sure about. Sam had been shrunk, sure, but that was by a person and a spell, they’d said.  
  
What if shrinking mushrooms worked differently?  
  
The sprite turned and rushed over to the dust tangle where he'd originally found the cup. He knelt to poke at it and brush at it with his wings, becoming more and more sober by the second as his sense of urgency mounted. There was no sign of an even smaller Jacob among the dust. The only disturbances in it were from Bowman himself.  
  
Bowman tried to imagine Jacob even smaller than he'd already become. Jacob small enough to stand on his hand much like Bowman often stood on  _his_  giant hands. It couldn't be possible. Bowman's breathing accelerated a little at the very idea. A single flap of Bowman's wings could blow Jacob away if he were that tiny!   
  
"Th-that can't be it," he said forcefully. His wings were practically vibrating with nerves. Surprisingly, Bowman felt a warmth in his eyes and he had to blink a few times to stem any tears. It was too soon to think that Jacob was just  _gone_ , reduced to nothing.  
  
He glanced at the wall behind the nightstand and stumbled to his feet. He put his hand on it and looked over to Sam. "Maybe he just wandered into the walls, like where your people go," Bowman suggested. He chuckled, a bit of a forced sound. "That's probably it. He got caught in a dust tangle and now we can't hear him."  
  
Sam wriggled his way out from under the nightstand, aimlessly brushing off the dust bunnies. “Maybe…” he said doubtfully. He hadn’t seen any entrances around when he’d been behind the nightstand.  
  
Hitching up his bag, he hiked towards the wall, the light from above following him as Dean shifted in place, flat on his stomach on the bed at that point. Sam knew he was doing his best to help without getting in their way, and he definitely appreciated the attempt. He knew Dean only hovered out of worry.  
  
He kept an eye out for both possibilities. There were no parts of the wallpaper peeling away, no sign of any cracks or slits that might beckon him to the interior of the motel. Nor was there any sign of an even bittier Jacob trekking through the jungle down there that a human wouldn’t even notice. Sam’s heart started to sink to his boots.  
  
_He’d_  been the one who’d said he’d watch out for Jacob, and here he was, letting him down.  
  
Bowman ran his slender hands along the wall, practically willing it to turn out his friend again. To stop being so unhelpful and just get him back. It had barely been hours since the shrinking. They couldn't lose him so soon! They hadn't even begun to do any research on that big 'computer' that Dean always had!  
  
Bowman made a noise somewhere between despair and frustration and backed away from the wall. The lack of any revelation in Sam's dulled hazel eyes wasn't something he wanted to see. More worried tears stung the sprite's eyes as he turned and spread his wings wide. They were still shaky from the beer, but he didn't care.  
  
Bowman leapt up, still behind the nightstand. He winced as his wings had to flap harder to keep him in the air thanks to how sluggish he was. They even bashed against the nightstand and the wall once or twice before he climbed the few feet into the air. The worst was when the outer finger bone of one wing smacked audibly into the edge of the nightstand right as he stumbled onto it. Bowman paid the pain no heed as he shoved past Dean's emptied drink cup.  
  
With one wing slightly curled from what might be a minor fracture, Bowman began to sift among the fabric of the shirt. He pushed every fold, flattened every bunched up section of it. Jacob probably just fell asleep from the drink. They'd find him there and have a laugh over their silly panic. Bowman lifted the edge of the shirt, ducking to peer under it. His hands were shaking and his throat was parched despite having had an entire bottle cap of beer to himself.  
  
"Come on ..." he muttered, oblivious to the others as he looked for his friend.  
  
Sam followed up at a much slower pace, hauling himself up the alarm cord hand over hand. Once he got to the top, he examined the thick wood grain under his boots to the most minute detail, afraid of missing Jacob down on the surface. He waved Dean back, afraid that if Jacob had indeed grown smaller, Dean would be able to inhale him without ever realizing it.  
  
Dean shifted back on the bed, resting his head on his arms with his green eyes wide. The panic in his own eyes was growing, but in a search like this he just couldn’t help them.  
  
He was too big.  
  
Sam combed the top, slipping past the remnants of Dean’s huge drink on his way back to the frantic sprite. If Jacob had kept shrinking… what if he never stopped? What if they weren’t finding him… because they  _couldn’t?_  
  
Bowman sat on his knees with two fistfuls of shirt fabric clutched in his hands. He scanned everywhere, bright green eyes losing hope with each passing second. If Jacob shrank away to nothing, there would be no helping him. He'd be swept into the air like a mote of dust and carried far away from them on the slightest breeze.  
  
The sprite's wings went slack and he turned his head to look at Sam and Dean. "He's not here," he said in a hollow tone.   
  
Just like that, Jacob was gone and they'd never even seen him vanish.  
  
_Gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Resolution? In chapter 13 on Halloween? There's no such thing.
> 
> Also, some of the feedback we got from our beta on this:
> 
> " 'A tiny bit of worry' OH ABOUT DAMN TIME I’VE ONLY BEEN WORRIED FOR FIVE CHAPTERS AND TEN THOUSAND YEARS"  
> "Bowman crying is not okay. ;^; He needs to find his Jacob again. He’s even beating up his wings, like his pride and joy. I am not okay."  
> "Dean is indeed too big and that is an awful reality."  
> "OH my GOD you guys spent a whole chapter not even mentioning what happened to Jacob. You guys are terrible. People are going to kill you for this."
> 
>  **Next:** November 1 st 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	14. Rewind

_My friends will give up on me._  
  
For Jacob, trapped in Dean’s mouth and on the brink of his life ending, the thought of his best friends giving up on finding him was akin to having an icy dagger shoved into his heart and twisted.  
  
 _My friends will give up on me._  
  
More tears sprang forth to mix with the foul liquids already covering his face as his imagination showed him how it would be once he was swallowed down. While he died in slow agony, no one would know. Their lives would simply continue on, going about their business while he vanished into Dean, lost mere hours after they set out to find out what had caused him to shrink. They would search for a while before they were forced to accept he was gone.  
  
 _My friends will give up on me._  
  
The thought lit the tiniest spark of desperation in him as it repeated over and over, more frantic with every second that passed in the hot, humid dark. He struggled more despite the inevitable slope of the throat somewhere right in front of him, beyond his sight but filling his thoughts with terror. It almost felt like it was gaping open, eager for him to tumble down at last after being denied so long  
  
In the back of his mind, he could still hear that terrifying  _Mmmmm_  of enjoyment and feel it humming all around him. The sound Dean had made while he savored the flavor that coated Jacob, soaked him to the bone. No way to separate out the difference between 'friend' and 'drink.'   
  
Surely the throat was right there and Dean would send Jacob on his way any second, eagerly consuming what he thought was a leftover bite from dinner.   
  
Jacob kicked and struggled anyway, trying to move away from the open abyss towards the front of the mouth. His heart quailed and a choked noise of fear echoed out of his chest. Trying to push himself backwards with the heels of his hands only resulted in his palms sliding uselessly against the muscle beneath him. Against the thing that would send him to his death on  _reflex._  
  
Everything around him, his entire environment, was designed towards forcing him mindlessly off that cliff no matter how he struggled. Dean would be the architect of his demise, and he'd never even know. In fact, if Dean hadn't been intent on savoring the brew while he watched the movie, Jacob would already have been consigned to the depths long ago. Just a forgotten lump, traveling inexorably down Dean's throat, unable to even struggle.  
  
No one would give his death a second thought. Dean would probably be taking another drink before Jacob even reached his destination, more cool, refreshing liquid washing down the gullet to hurry him on his way down. Jacob would be nothing more than a memory and an unexpected, inconsequential addition to Dean's meal. The stomach wouldn't care that it was one of Dean's best friends in there. It would simply do its job, breaking down the meal to nourish the hunter.  
  
Panic was Jacob's only companion, the only thing keeping him moving. Jacob's limbs were spent, his body exhausted. He could hardly make any progress splashing in what little beer hadn't trickled down into Dean's stomach yet. He could feel and hear Dean's pulse all around him.  _You're next you're next_  seemed to accompany the rhythm, and Jacob knew it was true.  
  
But he kept up his feeble attempts to avoid the inevitable.  
  


* * *

  
Dean frowned, concentrating on the tiny bit of…  _something_  on his tongue. His brow pinched with confusion. Now that he paid some attention, he realized that it didn’t  _taste_  like anything he'd eaten that night … and it was bigger than he’d expect for it to go unnoticed for so long, definitely too big to simply have been stuck in his teeth.  
  
Then he realized something and it felt like the world started to crash down.  
  
It was  _moving_.

  
  


[Artwork by voraciouspanda!](https://voraciouspanda.deviantart.com/art/Beer-a-la-Jacob-commission-plus-depthy-613869800) ([trippy version](http://depthy.me/#/ip/mDZOlCR))

A sense of dread filled him, starting with a clenching in his stomach that bloomed outwards and jabbed ice into his heart and set his pulse pounding in his ears. Reflexively, he pinned the weakly wriggling thing to the roof of his mouth when he swallowed down the rest of his beer in shock. His eyes snapped over to where everyone else was sitting and he could feel his insides freeze up, even more jagged claws digging their way into his chest at the horrible realization of what - or, rather,  _who_  - was in his mouth.  
  
Sam was still diligently recording what they knew in his little journal, leaning over it in the way one did to minimize distraction despite the movie blaring in the background. He kept that book with him at all times, jotting down useful information. Bowman sat with his bottlecap forgotten in his hands, staring at the TV screen with a confused fascination that often adorned his face when he was witnessing what he proclaimed to be "human magic." Those leafy wings twitched a little. And Jacob ...  
  
Jacob was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Sam and Bowman glanced over as Dean had to hold back a gag, bile rising in his throat at the realization of just what was trying so desperately to escape his tongue at that moment. Weak, tiny motions, a frail body trying to twist out from his compressed position while little limbs aimed fruitlessly to pull himself free. He was barely able to move while Dean was holding him in place. It almost tickled. The foul and horrifying sensation was so feeble it was hardly there, and yet there was nothing else in the world more noticeable to Dean in that moment.  
  
He ducked his head and slapped a hand over his mouth, trying his best to release Jacob from the roof of his mouth with care and spit him out gently, but with Jacob so small, that was an impossibility for the largest hunter. Sam was already jumping to his feet when he saw the panic building in Dean’s eyes. He didn’t need to ask to know that something had gone horribly, terribly  _wrong._  
  
Dean moved his hand hastily out from under his mouth, blinking back watery eyes as he saw the tiny, saliva drenched, hoodie-clad figure curled up in the creviced valleys of his skin. Jacob looked so  _vulnerable_  there, outsized by each and every one of Dean’s wrinkles.  
  
 _No, no, no…_  his mind could only repeat the one word over and over and over as his shaking hand held the tiny guy near his eyes, trying to see if he was even still  _alive_ after being trapped in Dean’s mouth for who knew how long. “Jacob…” he whispered desperately. “Please…”  
  
 _No, no, no, no…_  His stomach curdled at the sight of the unresponsive, still body, roiling in the uncertainty even as Sam hopped over to the bed in a deft motion without even breaking stride, already afraid of what he’d find waiting for him in Dean’s hand  
  
 _Please, God, no…_  To Dean, it suddenly didn’t matter that he didn’t believe in God or angels.  
  
He just wanted to see Jacob move.  
  


* * *

  
_I'm ... out?_  
  
Jacob's mind had to play a terrifying game of catch up. One second he struggled and squirmed uselessly. He tried to scramble backwards on a slick tongue that was prepared to send him plummeting with a sip of beer to a place from which they wouldn't return. The next second, he rushed upward and had all concept of breath knocked out of him when the tongue slammed him into the hard roof of Dean's mouth.  
  
A sharp pain in his center indicated a bruised rib, at the very least. His body was already in so much pain, it was difficult for Jacob to tell anymore what was broken and what wasn't. He might as well have no bones at all for all the good they did him fighting this. Jacob's shallow, restricted breathing was rough and ragged as he awaited the inevitable.  
  
When the beer around him suddenly vanished in one massive, noisy gulp, Jacob renewed his terrified struggles. He writhed as much as he could and pushed against the hard surface above, but his hands only slid away, utterly useless against his entrapment. The feeling made him shudder with continued terror and disgust.  
  
 _What is he doing? God, no no no it's happening, this is it. I'm going to die and no one will ever know..._  
  
He could hardly move in his weakened state but he scrabbled against the hard, slippery ceiling he was pinned to the best he could, squirming and twisting though there was no use fighting. Jacob was merely an afterthought, to be gulped down after the beer and forgotten among the rest of Dean's unremarkable dinner.  
  
The pulse around him was even more obvious now that he was so compressed, with his face forced to angle to the side to avoid smothering himself.  _You're next you're next you're next._  
  
And then, accompanied by strangled sounds echoing up from the throat that was waiting on him, his world lurched in one fluid, terrifying motion, tilting effortlessly and taking Jacob with it. Sensations that he'd thought lost to him for good assaulted him from all directions.  
  
Light.  
  
Air.  
  
Falling.  
  
Jacob fell past teeth, barely acknowledging the pain of hitting them. He fell past lips, the very same ones that had mistaken him for more beer and happily drawn him into the maw they guarded.  
  
And then Jacob was free.  
  
After crumpling onto the giant hand with barely an audible "oof!" Jacob lay there for what seemed like an age, his body frozen from going into shock. For a moment, he simply shook, his skin crawling from the feeling of his clothes practically glued to him by none other than  _saliva_. It coated him so thickly that he felt the weight of it. And then, in an instant, the reality and true horror of what just happened came back to him and he sucked in a ragged, desperate breath of clean air that almost felt freezing after the sauna-like conditions in Dean's mouth. He sputtered, amazed that he was actually breathing  _fresh_  air again after what felt like an eternity without it.  
  
Jacob convulsed and rolled over onto his back still greedily gaping for air, his muscles spasming from the continued surges of adrenaline that had been his normal for the eternity since he'd inadvertently fallen into Dean's beer. Panicked eyes shot open only to squeeze shut again. The room temperature air stung them harshly and it elicited a hiss of pain from him. His core hurt, his arms hurt, his legs hurt, his head hurt ... Jacob's list of what  _wasn't_  injured was dwindling fast thanks to the long entrapment in his friend's mouth.  
  
He lurched to the side again with jerky motions and pained muscles. This time he curled into the tightest ball he could manage to protect the growing bruise on his front. To protect  _himself_  from everything as cool air chilled him and made him shiver more than he already was. His hair was drenched and mussed hopelessly. His clothes stuck to his skin greedily, soaked through with spit and beer, viscous liquids heavier than water that coated his entire body.  
  
There was no escape from what it meant.  
  
Jacob had almost been  _eaten._  Swallowed away like little more than the tiniest and most forgettable snack.  
  
He squinted his eyes open and saw an expansive face before him. Freckles dusted a nose and cheeks that were bare inches away. Eyebrows were pinched close together over two green eyes that held Jacob in their focus, pupils dilated with fear as they beheld him. He couldn't see it below the level of the hand he was collapsed on, but Jacob knew with a panicked assurance that the mouth he'd been a prisoner of was waiting there.  
  
Waiting there, ready to take in another drink of beer, another french fry ... Jacob. With a terrified grimace, Jacob bunched up his shoulders and moved one perpetually shaking hand to cover his face while the other arm remained curled protectively around his ribs.  _Please don't,_  he begged silently, his voice gone. Tears squeezed unnoticed from his eyes.  _Please don't eat me._  
  
Rational thought had vanished. Jacob's usually cheerful, unflappable demeanor was shattered into a million pieces and he barely registered whose face he was looking at. All his brain wanted to dwell on at the moment was the fact that he'd just escaped an enormous mouth, and that mouth lingered nearby,  _waiting_. If Jacob had any strength in him to scramble back, to do something more than cower and stay curled up, he'd do it in a heartbeat.  _Don't eat me!_  Explaining to him that it was a mistake, only an accident, would fall on deaf ears as his instincts wailed in alarm and assessed the damage done.  
  
 _Don't ... don't eat me..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^An overactive imagination is a bitch to have when you're nearly eated^
> 
>  
> 
> If anyone wants to chat about the stories, BA has a [discord chat](https://discordapp.com/invite/sjkqB9A)! Come join us!
> 
> **Next:** November 5 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	15. Insidious Thoughts

Dean watched the panicky movements with a combination of desperate relief and devastating disgust at himself. Jacob had been in his mouth.  
  
_His mouth._  
  
He had to swallow his gorge down, force himself to stay steady. Jacob was cowering from him, his absolutely miniscule body curled into an even smaller ball as soon as he'd uncurled and spotted Dean above him.  
  
Dean.  
  
The person that nearly  _ate_  him, without even noticing. The bile appeared in his throat again with the threat of his dinner coming back up.   
  
During the time Dean sat there, frozen with fear and silently begging Jacob to be alright, Sam hauled himself up his arm without hesitation, running across the broad wrist. Sam was the only one keeping a cool head on his shoulders after the terrifying change the night had undergone.  
  
Sliding to a stop next to Jacob, Sam hovered his hands over the tiny, quivering hunter. He looked  _bad_. Drenched to the bone, shivering uncontrollably despite the heat that rose from Dean's hand. And new bruises, bad ones that Sam could see starting to form.  
  
But he was alive, and that was all that mattered to Sam. The rest he could figure out.  
  
And he  _would._  Somehow.  
  
"Okay..." Sam said. He slipped his jacket off, revealing muscular and toned arms in the chill motel room air. "We need to get you warm," he said, telling Jacob what he was doing as he did it. He needed to try and draw Jacob out of his funk, and that was the first thing that came to mind. A calm, steady voice to listen to and focus on. A voice letting Jacob know what was happening, every step of the way.  
  
"Don't worry, you're okay," Sam reassured him as he slipped what seemed like an oversized hand under his battered friend, lifting him off of Dean's palm. The tiny body tensed even more if it were possible, but offered him no resistance. Jacob had none left to give. "Nothing's gonna happen to you, and everything will be okay." Sam found himself repeating that, wanting nothing more than to reassure one of his best friends that he was safe. Considering where Jacob had just been, that was easier said than done.  
  
But he had to try.  
  
The jacket was wrapped around the tiny, shivering form. Sam didn't mind the smell of the beer or how wet Jacob was. He just wanted to warm his friend, calm the uncontrolled shudders.  
  
As soon as Jacob was covered, Sam drew him carefully against his chest for support and extra warmth. He practically had to hold Jacob up when those tiny legs started to wobble uncontrollably. "Can you tell me if you're hurt?" he asked gently.  
  
Sam's calm voice came and went. Jacob couldn't really hear it or make sense of the words half the time thanks to the constant, incessant buzz of fear that still clamored through him like a pack of angry wolves. Even though he'd wanted to squirm away from Sam at first, he was too spent to even move as the small giant lifted him up. Jacob's adrenaline-wrecked limbs were easy to manipulate, making it quick work for Sam to bundle him up in cloth.  
  
Even though he was shielded from the cold by an enormous jacket and held close to a very broad chest producing plenty of body heat, Jacob could not stop the shivering. Primal fear from his close call was his driving thought. The fear for his life remained despite the danger being past after coming so agonizingly close to losing it.  
  
His eyes remained tightly shut. Jacob's head kept spinning and making him feel like he was still lurching around in a pool of warm beer, straining against an impossible current in the dark, spiraling closer to the end of the line--  
  
He coughed harshly and curled in on himself a little more within the jacket. His face almost disappeared into the fabric as he cowered against Sam. "Nnnn. I-I-I. J-just..." His attempts to gather this thoughts were fruitless. It was too soon for Jacob to be able to string coherent words together after his near death experience, as ruled by terror as he was.  
  
_Couldn't stop it. Couldn't get out. No air. No way out. No way out. No air. My friends will give up. Don't eat me.  
  
Please don't eat me._  
  
The panicked, disoriented thoughts circled his mind and Jacob suddenly squirmed weakly, with grand designs to escape the bundle of fabric and run his ass off until he found a place to curl up and hide. He made a quiet but desperate noise of weak defiance, a plea to be released so he could flee far from everything. But, though his movements certainly felt to him like they were his very best, he couldn't even get one arm free of the jacket loosely bundled around him.  _Don't eat me!_  
  
Feeling the weak struggles, Sam wrapped his arms closer around Jacob. He didn't hold on tight, but he didn't need to. The far smaller person wouldn't be able to escape him even if he weren't weakened so by the alcohol and his ordeal. Jacob's terrified, bloodshot eyes spun as he tried to focus, so Sam put one of his hands against the back of Jacob's head, keeping the younger hunter from straining his neck more.  
  
He leaned down, trying to meet Jacob in the eye as his wide palm cupped the small head. "Jacob, I need you to try and focus, just for a minute. Okay? Then you can rest, I promise. Please, we need to know if you got hurt at all. I can help you but you have to let me. You're with me now, and you're safe. I won't let anything happen to you, but I need to know if you're injured. Please." If Jacob didn't respond to him, he'd have to try and identify any injuries on his own, and Sam was nowhere near as adept as Dean was at taking care of injuries.  
  
The dizzy spinning of everything around Jacob stabilized for a second or two before dancing in his vision once more. He twisted in the bundle of cloth that he was vaguely beginning to recognize as Sam's jacket, but with Sam's arms wrapped around him, he could do nothing to get away. He was feeling the heady effects of the huge amounts of alcohol in his system now that he'd gotten some fresh air and his blood was flowing again. Sam looked like he had four faces. It didn't help that Jacob's bloodshot eyes stung mercilessly.  
  
Sam's question came to him in pieces. Jacob puzzled it out while his tiny chest heaved with rapid breaths, raspy and still terrified. He opened his mouth to give speaking another try.  _My ribs might be hurt,_  was such an easy sentence to say. But drawing in a breath to say it felt like swallowing sandpaper.  
  
Jacob curled in on himself a little as he coughed, the motion sending bolts of pain through his bruised ribs. His body convulsed as he tried to hold in the coughs to save himself from the hurt. It didn't help and he only grew more dizzy from it. "Rrribs," he managed to croak out, before more pitiful coughs hissed out.  
  
“Hey, hey, hey,” Sam said, drawing him further into an embrace. He slipped his arms under Jacob’s legs, hoisting him fully into his arms. Jacob stopped his feeble attempts at squirming away, seemingly defeated. He seemed to completely give in to Sam's strength, leaning his tiny head against Sam's chest. His eyes continued to blink sluggishly and seek some semblance of focus while his tiny chest heaved with frightened breaths. Sam continued on in his calm, quiet voice. “Calm down. We’ll take care of them for you. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”  
  
With Jacob tucked against his front like an exhausted child, Sam twisted in place, staring up at his panicked brother. “Dean. Nightstand,” he stated in a clipped voice. Taking control of the situation.  
  
“Sam, I…” Dean’s tone said that he wanted to explain, to beg for forgiveness, to apologize…  
  
Sam cut him off. “Dean. I need you to do exactly what I say. I know you want to help, and this is what you can do. Put us on the nightstand. Get us a bottlecap of water and a sliver of ice, and a damp washcloth. Then I need you to  _stay away._ ” 

[Artwork by Mogadeer!](https://mogadeer.deviantart.com/art/Com-Jacob-and-Sam-for-PL1-556867359)

  
His eyes met the panicked green ones above. The guilt welled up in Dean at the blatant verbal slap from Sam.  _He’s right though,_  Dean’s thoughts whispered insidiously.  _You’re no use to them. You’ll only get in the way. You’re their biggest danger.  
  
You always will be._  
  
Dean swallowed down his fear, determinedly holding his hand steady as he nodded his understanding. They were lowered back to the shirt he'd placed on the nightstand, Sam carefully laying Jacob down on his side even as Dean stepped away. He got everything Sam had asked for, but the ice cube ended up being too large for the use they were putting it to. There was no way for Dean to get a suitably-sized piece without it melting on his skin.  
  
Praying Sam wouldn’t mind a larger chunk, Dean took it all back to the nightstand. He placed the items down with gentle care, getting a simple nod from Sam as the younger hunter dipped a newly-formed aluminum cup into the water.  
  
Dean backed away from the nightstand, almost running into the table behind him. Whirling around, he saw the six pack of beer sitting there with only one bottle missing. His gorge rose up again even as Dean snatched the pack from the table, trying to find a place out of sight for the infernal bottles that clinked together almost innocently as the carton swung in his grasp.  
  
Running out of time, he dropped them on the floor with a crash next to the table right as he was forced to run into the bathroom, his thundering steps only just getting him there in time. He hurled what must have been a week’s worth of food into the porcelain basin of the toilet, his knuckles turning white from the desperate grip he had on the bowl while his stomach seemed to be trying to turn itself inside out. His arms started to shake as he came to the end, his entire body quivering with the close call they’d had. He couldn’t help gagging again at the thought, trying to puke on an empty stomach.  
  
After an endless time in there, panting raggedly from the strain, he was able to stand unsteadily and stumble his way through the door to the sink. One fast glance showed Sam still hunched over Jacob’s feeble form, which, to Dean's dismay, was almost invisible from this distance. Dean stuck his head under the faucet, trying to wash away his guilt and shame yet knowing it would never leave him. He managed to wash out his mouth but couldn’t even sip the water to soothe his throat, the memory of how close Jacob had come to following that same route sending butterflies raging into his stomach again.  
  
Suddenly infuriated at himself, Dean aimed a savage kick at the beers on the ground. They were tossed away from him on the floor, the bottles tinkling as they rolled under the end of the closer bed.   
  
_DAMMIT!_    
  
No words passed his lips for the sake of his companions, but his mind roared at the empty air. He crumpled to the ground as a blinding spark of pain radiated up his leg. He’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing his boots.  
  
It didn’t matter. As he curled into the corner of the room, on the floor and as far away from the others as he could possibly get, a wave of guilt overwhelmed him. He deserved far worse than a broken toe for what he’d done. He’d demolished that fragile trust and almost killed one of his best friends in the worst way possible. He didn’t deserve any of them.  
  
Dean buried his head in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yeah. Jacob and Dean are a mess, but Sam knows what he's doing.
> 
> ******No update on Wednesday! I'm out of state for the week and my laptop is fried, so I won't be able to keep up on story things.**
> 
> **Next:** November 12 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	16. Aftermath

Sam spent his time carefully caring for Jacob’s injuries. He used the washcloth to gently sponge his fragile friend clean, keeping Jacob braced against his chest for support the entire time. The action helped to warm the frail, shuddering form up.   
  
Once Jacob was as clean as Sam could get him, he lowered him to the shirt they were sitting on. “This will help,” he promised even as he delicately touched the spreading bruise on Jacob’s chest with the tip of the ice cube. “If you feel up to it, I have water. You  _need_  water in you.”  
  
Bowman was only just getting over the shock of what had transpired. He squatted near Jacob on the shirt without overcrowding his small, shivering friend, and couldn't take his bright green eyes off of him. So many things were  _wrong._  The sprite's wings quivered and flexed restlessly as he watched Sam take care of the injuries on Jacob's chest.  
  
Injuries he'd gotten from being battered inside a giant's  _mouth._  
  
Turning his head to look up and see Dean's panic as he spat a tiny form onto his palm had made Bowman freeze up from the tips of his wings to the depths of his stomach. Jacob had nearly been eaten.  
  
 _Jacob._    
  
The biggest human Bowman had ever met. Who was supposed to have  _fingers_  thicker than a sprite, but currently could barely cover Bowman's palm with his entire hand.  
  
Dean received several fleeting glances from Bowman as he raged and then collapsed on the other side of the room, but Bowman was mostly riveted on the terror and confusion that still lingered in Jacob's expression. Bowman knew that exact same terror. Having been caught in the jaws of a wolf once, he could empathize very closely with the fear of being swallowed down with no way to escape. The fear was in the back of his mind all the time, being a member of a prey species, but the fact that Jacob didn't always have that worry clearly wouldn’t diminish his pain.  
  
When it came to life and death situations, previously standing assumptions and rules didn't apply. It didn't matter that they were all  _used to_  Jacob towering above them. It didn't matter that Jacob  _should_  be too large for this to even be an issue. The fact was that he  _had_  been drastically reduced in size, and now the dangers and consequences of such a horrifying discrepancy were rearing their ugly heads.  
  
Bowman's best friend. Almost eaten. And none of them would have known. He would have been lost to them for good and they wouldn't have known where he went. That thought sent a shiver down Bowman's spine.  
  
Jacob could feel the eyes resting on him. Sam and Bowman may not be as titanic as Dean but they were still so much  _bigger_  than him and it was unnerving. He hadn't been smaller than everyone around him in a very long time. Now Jacob felt like a child again, injured and cold and afraid.  
  
He laid his head down on the shirt Sam had settled him on, his neck heavy and not very cooperative in holding him up. Jacob's eyelids were sluggish, but he couldn’t stop blinking through the haze of drunkenness. After overexerting himself just fighting to stay alive, Jacob was at a point where he could resist nothing. Even with a freezing cold piece of ice applied to his sore front, Jacob barely acknowledged it. He was busy watching Bowman's green wings with fascination as they seemed to multiply only to become two again.  
  
Until the sprite spoke up from where he squatted. "Jacob, let Sam give you water," he pleaded.  
  
Jacob groaned rather than come up with words to say. He clumsily snaked one arm out of the very very oversized jacket around him. It flopped onto his front before he reached awkwardly for the cup Sam offered. Sam's enormous hands filled his vision, placing the container of water in his feeble grasp and patiently guiding his hand to his mouth to drink. That was likely a good thing; Jacob might have just thrown the water over his shoulder if left to his own coordination.  
  
Once he managed to get down a full cup, he shuddered and lay back, squirming his way into a curled position as soon as he could. Brown eyes that lacked focus darted around with no room for anything but fear in them.  
  
Sam sat back to give Jacob space, resting his hands on his knees where he squatted as he looked over Jacob's all-too-short form with a gentle care. He took the cup back and filled it with water again, but this time he handed it off to Bowman. "Here. If he can drink more, it's for the best. We need to help him get his strength back up." Sam grabbed his satchel from his side and dug his hook out. "I'm going to get the covers from my bed. He needs something better than a jacket covering him after everything. Don't leave his side, okay?"  
  
Bowman nodded in affirmation. He shifted himself so that he knelt between Jacob and the rest of the room. His wings fanned open, creating a screen that blocked the vast space yawning around them from view. Jacob's tired, bloodshot eyes absently traced the leafy patterning in Bowman's strong wing instead. His breathing, while still haggard and faster than it ought to be, leveled out some.  
  
He tried again to get Jacob's attention. "Come on, Jacob. Just one more cup of water. Sam's getting blankets and you can rest soon."  
  
Jacob, curled up on his side and still quaking from fear, looked so fragile and weak. Bowman's jaw clenched. He couldn't help but remember getting swept up in tangled metal wires, a snare that was designed to tighten around him the more he fought it. Bowman had thought he would be strangled and squeezed to death, hanging from a branch while his tentative new allies watched.  
  
But Jacob had stepped forward calmly, knowing immediately what to do.  _Bowman, listen to me_  echoed in the sprite's head, a voice that gently worked its way past his terror to get his attention.  _I'm going to cut you out of there._  A hand big enough to encase the sprite completely in a fist, wings and all, had instead cradled him safely while Jacob calmly and steadily saved his life.  
  
And now Jacob was tiny and hurt and completely terrified and Bowman couldn't do a thing to fix it. He sighed faintly, feeling the heady effects of the beer leaving him to be replaced by melancholy, and tried again. "Jacob, please just drink one more cup of water," he said, trying to coax a response.  
  
The small human turned unfocused eyes up to Bowman and blinked heavily. He opened his mouth to answer but only coughed instead. Bowman leaned closer to slip a hand underneath Jacob's alarmingly frail body and sit him up a little. With Bowman's help, Jacob managed to sip at the water, his small shoulders tense just from peering around at what he could see. Things were probably dancing in his vision.  
  
Bowman only managed to get his small friend to choke down half of the cup Sam left him with. The rest spilled down Jacob’s front when he flinched back suddenly, his eyes full of sudden fear as his jumbled mind and hazy memories played tricks on him. “You're okay,” Bowman promised him. “You're okay.”  
  
While Bowman talked softly to Jacob and helped him drink, Sam dropped from the top of the nightstand in one easy motion, burying the hook into a crack as he dropped. Dean might call him a show off, but he was in a hurry. Leaving Jacob in such a fragile condition went against everything in him, but he knew they needed the covers and Bowman's wings would do the sprite no good after a few drinks. They all knew exactly how good a climber Bowman was.  
  
Tightening his grip on his line as he reached the bottom, Sam managed to swing right into the opening, landing on the edge of the shelf. He left the line dangling there for the trip back up and went to his bed. Every last cover was stripped off and Sam bundled them up in his arms and tucked them into his satchel, between the straps so his arms would be free for climbing again. If he could, he would have grabbed a pillow, but he had no way to carry it up and he couldn't ask Dean to come back over.   
  
He  _couldn't_  ask Dean for help.   
  
Jacob had curled into a ball, trying to cover his head and defend himself the moment he'd seen the large face peering worriedly down at him. After what he'd been through, it didn't matter that Dean was his friend and worried for him.  
  
All that mattered was how  _big_  Dean was.  
  
They needed to help Jacob feel safe and Dean, right now, did the opposite. Though Sam's heart was heavy, knowing how all of it would be  _killing_  Dean inside, he was glad his brother was as far away as he could get in the small room.  
  
He started the climb, hauling himself back up with expert ease. A quick glance revealed Dean still in the corner, his head buried in shaking arms as he processed through what he'd almost done. Sam wanted nothing more than to reassure him, but he couldn't. He needed to focus on Jacob.  
  
And nothing he said would ever make this better.  
  
Hauling himself back over the edge, he walked back over to Jacob and Bowman, who was still trying to coax Jacob to drink one more sip of water.  
  
At the sight of Sam, Jacob shut his eyes tight again and twisted away from Bowman so he could duck into the overlarge jacket wrapped around him. Fractured emotions slipped through the occasional tiny lapses of his terror, and Jacob felt  _ashamed._  "... 'm sorry," he managed to slur, a shudder running up his spine again. "D-din't ssstay put," His voice was so weak, so wrecked from his trials. Even Bowman, sitting so close, nearly missed it, muffled by Sam's jacket as it was.  
  
Sam just barely heard it himself. He walked carefully over, kneeling down next to Jacob. "It wasn't your fault, Jacob. It wasn't _anyone's_  fault, alright?" He tried to convince himself even as he absolved Jacob of any blame. Just plain bad luck, it  _had_  to be... Dean would  _never_  have hurt Jacob if he'd had any idea what was in his mouth.   
  
 _Never._  
  
Sam lay the blankets across Jacob, covering him up. "You can come out of the jacket," he informed the kid gently. "The blankets are much softer, I promise. And whenever you feel up to it, we need to know what happened, that way it doesn't happen again, okay?"  
  
There was a faint noise, almost inaudible, as a whine of terror lodged in Jacob's throat. He didn't want to talk about what he'd just been through, he didn't want to move. He didn't want to be awake  _or_  fall asleep. He was confused and the terror just wouldn't go away. For a moment he just curled closer to himself, keeping his eyes shut tight.  
  
Sam and Bowman could hardly see the shudders that danced up and down his tiny spine. He was so small.  
  
Finally, after a long pause during which no one put any pressure on him, Jacob stirred. He clumsily tried to move out of the jacket so he could get to those soft blankets. His limbs were still as unruly as a baby deer's. He heard Bowman muttering encouragement as he helped pull the jacket the rest of the way off of him.  
  
With the comfortable shirt bunched beneath him and a few layers of soft cloth above, Jacob flopped, his exhausted body even giving up on curling in a tense ball. His hands clumsily tugged one of the blankets closer to himself with all the grace of the drunk that he was. With his head still swimming, he tried to focus his stinging eyes on one of the two leaning near him. It almost worked.  
  
Jacob opened his mouth to finally answer Sam's gentle question. He half expected the whimper of fear from before to return, but to his surprise, actual words rasped out. "Jussst wuh--" he paused to clear his throat and wince as his stomach protested angrily for dwelling on what he'd just endured. "Wan'ed a refill," he explained as clearly as he could.  
  
Jacob sighed and clutched the blanket he'd claimed closer as if he were cradling a stuffed animal. "Climbed th' stupid lamp an'... , fell in when Dean bumped the nightstand." Jacob groaned in a bit of frustration with how his words came as slowly as molasses. He'd never been this drunk before and he wasn't a fan of the feeling.  
  
Bowman was about to consider how much time there was between Dean bumping the furniture and Dean spitting Jacob onto his hand, but the horror of how long it was was nothing compared to the icy cold mortification that settled in his gut with Jacob's next revelation.  
  
"Didn' see me, sssstill couldn' hear. Too busy arguing."  
  
There wasn't a hint of accusation in Jacob's tone, only resigned explanation, but Bowman's eyes widened and he balked abruptly from where his battered friend lay. He stared at Jacob in horror, heat rising in his face and his heart beating faster.  
  
 _Dean didn't hear him because he was too busy listening to_ me _yell at him!_  The self blame crashed down on Bowman too and shattered everything else in the room. All he could see was Jacob lying there in that state because his cries for help were drowned out by Bowman, complaining about nothing just for the sake of arguing. The sprite's wings shook with his frustration with himself and he remained silent, though his mouth was hanging open.  
  
What could he even say to that?!  
  
Sam glanced up at Bowman, his own regret shining in his eyes. He remembered just ignoring the others, resigned to the argument as always. He could've paid more attention, noticed that Jacob was  _gone…_  gotten him out sooner...  
  
Could've. Should've. Would've.  
  
Dwelling on it would do nobody any good. "It was  _no one's_  fault," Sam repeated firmly. "We can't change that it happened, but it won't happen again. The important thing is Jacob's okay." He put his hand lightly over Jacob's arm... or rather, half his side, with the scale difference. "If you need any water, just let me know. I'll be right here all night. I'm not going anywhere."  
  
He pulled the blankets up, covering Jacob as much as he could. "Just rest and we'll watch out for you, okay?"  
  
Jacob replied with a noncommittal grunt. He was being dragged farther from awareness by sheer exhaustion. After battling for his life nonstop for so long, all while becoming more and more intoxicated, it was no wonder. His breathing started to level off and he let his eyes relax a little without scrunching them closed too tightly.  
  
His heart was still fluttering from fear as recent events danced in his memory, but Jacob's shivering began to peter out as his body simply lacked the strength to keep up even that. Jacob kept opening his eyes again as if he might keep track of where he was, but he lacked focus and every time he closed them again with a momentary frown of pain.  
  
Finally, despite trying to stay at least marginally aware, Jacob lost the battle with sleep and drifted off. An atypical tension in his shoulders dropped away at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in town! Things are still a little slow for me, there's a lot going on in rl that is hard to keep up with, so my responses will be more sluggish than normal.
> 
> **Next:** November 15 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love! They keep us going


	17. Rest

Bowman waited until Jacob really was asleep before getting to his feet and stepping back. His eyes were fixed on Jacob's small form, so frail despite the fact that he should be towering over even Dean. He was strong, even for a human. It was wrong to see him fumbling around like he had been before finally drifting off.  
  
Bowman sighed tersely. Jacob was relying on him and Sam to make sure he didn't get himself into trouble as he navigated a world that was suddenly too large for him. He didn’t  _know_  how to survive in it the way Sam and Bowman did. Bowman could have paid his best friend some level of attention, and instead he'd let him fall unknowingly into a giant's drink.  
  
Bowman looked over at Dean, curled up as much as a giant could be in the far corner. His face was hidden, but even from the nightstand the sprite could see Dean's shoulders quivering. One of Dean's best friends, in danger because of him. The man was clearly blaming himself more than anybody, and he didn't deserve it.  
  
"I'll uh. I'm gonna go talk to Dean," Bowman told Sam, his own guilt still eating away at him.  
  
Sam nodded in reply. He lay flat on the shirt, stretching out next to Jacob so he could watch over his friend while he slept. He didn't plan on going more than an inch or two away from Jacob until he knew he was alright, however long that might take.  
  
Bowman's green wings spread wide as he made his way to the edge of the nightstand. He fluttered once before he stepped off the surface and began to glide. He had to swerve clumsily around the corner of one of the beds as he made his way over, and even when he reached Dean, Bowman's landing wasn't particularly graceful. He tumbled over on the carpet, his wings falling haphazardly around him.  
  
He righted himself sluggishly and sat there, staring up at the curled up human. Bowman almost couldn't believe that he'd thought, once upon a time, that this man would eat  _him._  Dean looked so distraught over the near miss, every ounce of him bleeding remorse.  
  
"Dean ..." Bowman greeted cautiously, wondering if the human would hear him through his own walls of guilt. "Dean. Jacob's asleep. He's shaken but he's safe. Okay?"  
  
Lost in his mind, Dean almost didn't hear Bowman's voice, though he’d certainly heard the tumble. His red-rimmed eyes peeked up out of his arms, peering around for the sprite. When he saw how close Bowman had come, a jolt shuddered through his body. He curled inwards even more, trying to put what distance between them he could.  
  
His toe throbbed as he tucked his leg close, sending fresh splinters of pain that he simply accepted. He deserved it, after all.  
  
"T-that’s good," he managed to stutter. "He's... he's with Sam?" Dean flattened himself further against the wall to try and put more space between himself and the sprite. "You shouldn't be over here," he muttered in resignation. "I'm... I'm too dangerous. You should all stay away."  
  
Bowman pursed his lips. Any part of him that was once afraid of Dean had long since been erased, because of Dean's many efforts towards  _not_  being dangerous. Once he realized Bowman was an innocent victim, Dean had helped him protect his forest, and he always made sure to be careful around the village. Even now he tried to keep himself away from Bowman despite the way the sprite freely approached him.  
  
Bowman's eyes strayed to one of the giant hands. He'd been trapped in those hands before, and been completely helpless to escape. Dean had never once used the advantage he had to hurt Bowman; only to keep him in line on occasion, before and after they became allies and eventually friends.  
  
Bowman sat down, determinedly not following Dean's warning to get away. "Y'know, flying is technically kind of dangerous too and I dare you to try to get me to stop doing that," he challenged, making it clear that he was resolved to stick around, at least for a while, to keep the human company.  
  
After all, Bowman had played a big part in ensuring Jacob was trapped in one of the most terrifying places he could imagine. By Dean’s logic, Bowman didn't deserve to be around the miniaturized hunter either.  
  
"Yeah, but..." Dean tried to scoot away from Bowman, wanting to get as far away from his fragile friend as he could. The sprite had managed to trap him in a corner, hemmed in on all sides. "I... I just..."  
  
He rubbed his face desperately, trying to scrub away the inebriation that still hung around him. "And I didn't even  _notice,_ " he mumbled, almost babbling the first things that came to mind. "I thought he was just food and..."  
  
Bowman's jaw clenched and he drew in the slightest gasp. Hearing about someone,  _anyone,_  being casually mistaken for food was tough to hear without getting nervous. His prey instincts made him particularly vigilant for things like that, especially with such a large giant so close. But he didn't outwardly show his reaction. Dean didn't need that right now.  
  
Dean’s arms started to shake again at the thought of how close he'd come. He huddled in a ball, drawing his arms close to try and calm the shudders that wracked through him.   
  
His mind whispered the thought that he couldn't speak out loud, taunting him remorselessly.  _That's right, Dean-O. You almost ate one of the few people you care about in the world. Maybe you should do them all a favor and get out of their lives. They deserve better, don't they? And here they are, stuck with you. The Failure with a capital F. Couldn't save Sammy when you were a kid, almost killed your best friend today, can you do_  anything _right?_  
  
"Okay, well, maybe," Bowman finally spoke, looking down at his boots. "But you were only distracted because I had to be yelling at you anyway. This isn't ...  _anyone's_ fault, Dean." He had to force the word out, because Bowman still wanted to let the self-blame linger. It probably wouldn’t even begin to go away until Jacob recovered.  
  
Needless to say, the usually-snarky sprite had just had a slap in the face. His friend was vulnerable now. He needed to keep that in mind and shape up if he was going to be any help to Jacob. His friend was counting on him, and Bowman wasn't going to let him down again.  
  
"He's ... he's gonna be okay now. What  _could_  have happened  _didn't,_  right? So he's gonna be okay."   
  
 _He has to be._  
  
If anything, Dean drew even further into himself. "He's fine..." he repeated tonelessly. "He'll be okay."   
  
 _No thanks to you, Dean-O._  
  
He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the slick sheen of sweat cover his hand. "I'm not..." Dean had to clear his throat. "I'm so  _sorry_  and I don't even know what I could ever,  _ever_  say to him to make it right. There... there aren't words for what I did."  
  
Bowman pursed his lips and looked back up. Dean was devastated. So broken down by his own guilt in such a short amount of time, he was practically cowering in the corner from  _Bowman,_  for Spirit's sake. Someone the length of his first finger had Dean terrified to move in case he hurt them.  
  
The sprite sighed. Dean was his friend and he didn't want to see him suffer like this, under abuse from his own inner voice. "Well. We all made some mistakes. But that doesn't ... you're not ..." Bowman sighed in frustration, having a lot of difficulty finding the words to say. Part of it was because he desperately hoped to figure out something to say that he'd believe about himself, too. It was hard.  
  
"It's not like you did anything on purpose, Dean," Bowman finally said. "And Jacob ... when he wakes up he'll know that. I-I mean he's not the kind of person that'd stay mad at  _you_  about it." Though, as someone who had spent horrifying time in a mouth himself, Bowman guessed the memories would linger in Jacob's mind for a while. He wasn't going to say that.  
  
"It's hard to figure out what to say for the important things but you'll figure it out even if it takes a little time..." Bowman brushed his hands back through his dark green, untameable hair. It sprang right back up to where it had been, undisturbed.  
  
“Yeah, maybe,” Dean said darkly, having no such faith in himself. He could still feel Jacob’s tiny body  _wriggling_  on his tongue, desperately trying to get  _anyone’s_ attention. Panicked and trying to escape from  _Dean_.   
  
And Dean almost  _hadn’t noticed._  
  
He ripped his thoughts away from that memory, his blood chilled every time his mind started to drift towards the  _what ifs_... the fact that they never would have  _known_ where Jacob had vanished to.  
  
His parents wouldn’t even have a body to bury.  
  
Dean’s eyes flicked over to Bowman, sadness and regret shining in them. “I… I can’t go back over there,” he said morosely. “I’ll just… I won’t bother you guys at all. I’ll stay out of your way.” With that, he buried his head in his arms, afraid to meet Bowman in the eyes any longer.  
  
Bowman glanced back in the direction of the nightstand, but it was obscured by a bed and he couldn't see the top of it. He just knew Jacob was sleeping solidly over there, hopefully working some of the terror out of his system. He needed to recover from that soon. He could rest as long as it took and Sam and Bowman would take care of him.  
  
"I won't ask you to go over there," he replied. He left out the part that he probably wouldn't  _let_  Dean go over there if he could help it. Jacob, for better or worse, was facing horrors at his new size in the first 12 hours that would even have Sam and Bowman on edge. Jacob could hardly tell friend or foe from a giant human right now.  
  
It was painful, but it was the truth, and Bowman would spare Dean from it if he could. He regarded the human for several more seconds, noting the mournful hunch in his shoulders. "Dean ... it's  _not_  your fault," he said insistently, not expecting an answer.  
  
Dean closed his eyes at Bowman’s words, taking in a shuddering gasp. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t be sleeping that night, as tormented by his thoughts as he was. It felt like his friends were slipping away from him, no matter what he did… he just kept screwing up, losing their trust. That hurt more than anything. He’d always prided himself on Sam’s trust in him. The kid was willing to jump off a countertop and let Dean catch him if he had to. He’d held their lives literally in his hands and he never wanted to endanger that trust.  
  
Here… it felt like no matter  _what_  he did, he’d mess it up. Jacob hadn’t even been small for a full day yet and Dean had already almost given him over to the mercy of a stranger, almost crushed him with a six pack of beer,  _eaten_  him…  
  
They were better off with Dean far, far away.  
  
Stuck in an unending loop of the day’s screw-ups, Dean didn’t move from his spot for hours. The shaking slowly started to die down in his shoulders, tapering off to an occasional shudder, like an icy chill up his back. He even drifted off for a bit, slipping into an uneasy sleep where he was collapsed in the corner, his foot throbbing in time with his regrets.  
  


* * *

  
Bowman made it back to the nightstand feeling quite exhausted. The walk across the room had been one thing, enormous square shaped furniture stretching over his head and a plain of dark carpet stretching out to a horizon blocked by walls with faded patterns on them.  
  
Flying back up to the nightstand was the real struggle. His still-inebriated wings did not want to cooperate. He'd nearly taken a dive straight down after the first leap. Somehow, though, he managed to get himself to the edge and hoist himself over, kicking a little before getting the traction he needed.  
  
Bowman, on any other night, would have just flopped over then and there on the bunched-up shirt. Instead, he crept over to where Jacob rested and settled down gently next to him opposite Sam. Jacob needed to feel like he was safe, and sticking close was the only way a wood sprite knew to offer that kind of comfort. Bowman stretched a wing carefully over the tiny human, including Sam too so he wouldn't just poke him by accident.  
  
Jacob's tiny form didn't stir at all, but now he had a green canopy over him, hopefully a soothing color should he happen to look up in the night. After quarrelling with his own worries and guilt, Bowman drifted off himself. He fell into uneasy dreams that brought frowns to his face as he rested. It would be a long night.  
  


* * *

  
Somewhere in the middle of his otherwise deathlike sleep, Jacob's dreams took a turn for the horrific. He found himself falling into that stupid pile of gas station fries again. Only this time, no one pulled him out until he was swept up in an unfathomably enormous hand, easily pinched in a couple fingers along with the fries that dwarfed his body. Jacob watched in shock as the plate fell away beneath him and all but disappeared in the ethereal way that dreamscapes do.  
  
Even knowing he was dreaming, Jacob couldn't help a wave of fear when he saw that he and the fries approached a huge mouth. Closer, closer, closer ...  
  
Jacob flinched so violently that he actually woke up with a startled breath. His eyes were wide for a second until he shut them and rubbed at them with his knuckles. He could tell by the wavering of the world around him that he was still drunk. And there was a wide green ... wing? over him. Jacob shuddered and turned over in his place, trying to get comfortable again.  
  
He brushed against Sam’s arm when he was shifting in place under the green canopy. With a mumble, Sam rolled a little closer, his arm landing over Jacob’s small body. Jacob flinched in surprise from the sudden appearance of an arm longer than his body. It was only a moment before Sam shifted again, pulling Jacob closer by instinct as soon as he noticed the shivers that wracked his body even in the depths of sleep.  
  
Sam buried his head next to Jacob under the blankets, effectively pinning him to his chest the way one would a teddy bear at night. His grip was gentle, keeping away from the sore and bruised ribs that the tiny guy was nursing. Sam gave a brief mumble of contentment before he fully drifted into sleep again.  
  
Jacob’s surprised squirming was practically nonexistent thanks to exhaustion. If he were at his full strength, sober, and not still shaking from residual fear, Jacob may have been able to squirm away. As it was, warmth that was all too hard to retain at his size was a welcome feeling. He settled with a weary sigh, knowing this was a battle he simply didn't have the energy to fight. Sam's heartbeat thumped steadily right behind his head, with Jacob nestled right next to his chest. It was a backdrop to him drifting off again, slipping back into a deep sleep aided by the copious amounts of alcohol still in his system.  
  
The room settled into an uneasy silence as they rested, Dean on one side of the room against the wall, everyone else asleep under a green canopy of Bowman's wing, blocking out sight of the enormous world around them.   
  
Keeping them safe.

[Artwork by mogadeer!](https://mogadeer.deviantart.com/art/com-Sleep-tight-558931638)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think people have wanted this part ever since they saw the CUTEST picture done for it!
> 
> We like to keep a good balance of absolute ANGST along with absolute CUTES
> 
> **Next:** November 19 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	18. Harsh Truths

The dawn came swiftly. Sunlight began a steady creep through the room, slipping its way through the shades that Dean kept shut on his brother's behalf. Everyone knew that Sam and Bowman (and now Jacob) needed to stay out of sight from other humans for their own good, and the good of anyone else their size. The last thing anyone needed was to accidentally let out the secret that smaller folk shared the world with humans.  
  
One such shaft of light made its way towards Dean, curled up in his corner with his head slumped awkwardly against the wall. He twitched in surprise, blinking rapidly as his mind woke up. His instincts were on edge after a night of panic and worry, scattered nightmares haunting him from the few times he was able to snatch a moment of rest.  
  
He stumbled in place as he stood, his foot on fire from the night before. He'd broken his second toe...  _Nothing to do about that now,_  he thought to himself, shrugging it off. Pain he could deal with.  
  
As for the rest...  
  
Dean spent a moment trying to stretch out his arms and back. After sleeping in such an uncomfortable position during the night, his neck was sore and he could barely turn it to his left. His arms popped as he moved them above his head, reaching towards the ceiling. His fingers brushed against the bumpy surface, for a moment glad that everyone was still asleep. He couldn't imagine they'd enjoy the reminder of just how big he was after his unthinking actions the night before.  
  
Despite his misgivings, Dean was drawn back to the nightstand, a desperate need to see if everyone had survived the night building in him with a desperate rush of emotion he almost couldn't handle. He did his best to walk softly, afraid of frightening Jacob  _more_  after what he'd done.  
  
Dean put his hands on his knees, leaning over to peer down at the nightstand. Even his foul mood and constant guilt couldn't stop a smile when he saw the sight before him.  
  
Bowman's wing had slipped off of the other two at some point, drawing close around himself in a huddled green ball. Sam was laying curled up on his side, and Jacob...  
  
Jacob was subbing in as Sam's teddy bear.  
  
Sam had the smaller hunter drawn up against his chest. His cheek was resting on top of Jacob's head and they were contentedly snoozing away. The blankets were bunched around them both, keeping them warm in the chill motel air.  
  
Dean reached forward, stroking Sam's back with a light finger to wake him. "Hey, kiddo."  
  
With a small groan, Sam peered up at Dean, flinching from the light. "Whuu..."  
  
As quietly as he could to avoid waking the others and terrifying Jacob, Dean went on. "You might want to loosen up a little on your teddy bear there," he told Sam, hiding a smile at the confusion.  
  
Dean left them, striding away as softly as he could as Sam tried to shift away from Jacob. He didn't get far with one of his arms pinned under the little guy at that point, so Sam gave up for the moment. He settled back down to watch the dawning world through lidded eyes. He saw Dean leave the room to get a shower and sighed. His older brother was still so regretful he didn't even want to come close to them. Considering how afraid Jacob had been of him, it wasn’t the  _worst_  thing, but…  
  
It was  _Dean,_  and it would kill him to see any of them scared.  
  


* * *

  
Dreams of being eaten didn't plague Jacob's slumbering mind as much as he'd expected. As the beer worked its way through his system and kept his body almost entirely shut down in the meantime, Jacob was only visited by frightening snippets, flashes of memory that would cause his little heart to beat faster before settling once more.  
  
Jacob woke not too long after Dean roused Sam. His waking was far less graceful.  
  
He sat up abruptly, the blankets falling to his lap in a bunched up mess from the sudden movement. And then, as if someone had their fists on each of his temples, an angry headache made Jacob flop back down before he could get his bearings. His hands slapped over his his face, the heels resting against his dry, aching eyes.  
  
Jacob had one  _hell_  of a hangover.  
  
His lips turned downwards in a disgusted frown at the feeling that made his body heavy and sluggish and his head felt like a sidewalk being split open. It was a laborious process to sit himself back up without lying down again. A short, frustrated groan resonated in his throat, a quiet sound but definitely audible. " _Fffuck,_ " he whispered out, trying to catch up to the monumental wretched feeling that had no problem reminding him of just how much beer he had to drink.  
  
With Jacob off his arm, Sam sat up slowly next to his friend. The water from Dean's shower was still rushing in the distance, creating a barrier of white noise that kept the sounds of the outside world from plaguing them. None of the sounds from the birds chirping or the cars driving by leaked in, though Sam knew they'd be able to hear it soon enough. After a night like last night Dean was probably trying to wash away the uneasiness and despair, a hopeless venture for anyone.   
  
Sam gave his arms a small stretch, working out the kinks from an uneasy night of sleep, then his back as well. He tried to brush his bedhead under control, the brown hair matted to his forehead with sweat. It worked a little, at least enough to keep the hair out of his eyes.  
  
Spotting Jacob's pained position, Sam raised a hand, lightly cupping it against his back to offer some support. "Hey," he said softly, calling Jacob's attention to himself. "We have water if you need it." He kept his voice low, knowing that after what Jacob had gone through the night before, he probably felt like a ground up ball of shit.  _Especially_  if he had a hangover on top of all the other bruises and injuries and traumas.  
  
The thought of putting anything in his stomach made Jacob immediately squeamish. He shuddered once and took a few metered breaths, tense shoulders rising and falling steadily. He felt especially frail and weak as the consequences of heavy drinking ( _very_  heavy drinking) took their toll. Sam's huge hand on his back was as discouraging as it was comforting.  
  
Jacob's fingers curled slowly into loose fists so he could massage his sensitive eyes and temples with his knuckles. He dragged his hands down his face, still breathing deeply and slowly like they always said you should when feeling sick. He knew he should sip down some water; it could help with the alcohol-induced dehydration that was currently hammering his skull without breaks or mercy.  
  
The night before didn't crash into his mind like a bull, but rather crept in like a wisp of smoke. Jacob tried to push the thoughts back with only half success. The hangover was an echo of the tumultuous feeling of being tossed around, back and forth, in erratic and terrifying patterns. Always wondering when he'd go over the edge that waited eagerly for him ...  
  
"Water's good," he croaked abruptly, hoping that the effort it took to speak would distract his thoughts from the scattered, hazy memories of almost getting, well,  _drunk._ He shuddered again.  
  
Finally daring to open his eyes and observe his surroundings, Jacob had to squint almost immediately. He raised his head to peer around the room, lit sparsely by the lamp and the sunlight peeking in. The sound of running water crashing out of a shower told Jacob where Dean must be. Out of everyone in the room, he was the only person tall enough to use any of the accommodations. Jacob was wishing he could get himself clean at the moment, but the fact that a simple shower would probably knock him out was discouraging. He let out a raspy sigh.  
  
The room still yawned before them, and that continued to be unnerving to the miniature hunter. Less than 24 hours ago, he'd been his normal 6'5" self. Now he was a bare percentage of that height and feeling it all over. Dark bruises spotted him here and there. A particularly mean one, he remembered, was caused by no more than a  _penny_  falling past him.  
  
None of that took into consideration the pain in his ribs. It was a sharp, hollow feeling, one that waxed and waned in time with his tense breathing. He gingerly curled his arms around his middle, frowning straight ahead. He didn't want to think about how he'd gotten that injury, but the pain was impossible to ignore and thus neither was the memory of receiving it.  
  
Slammed into an enormous hard palate while the rest of the beer vanished down an equally enormous throat. His struggles meant absolutely  _nothing_  and the pause of a few seconds... those long, hellish moments where Dean was deliberating his fate, trying to decide what it was he'd discovered in his mouth... those moments had stretched out into an eternity of losing strength until, by the time he was released from that hell, Jacob had nothing left.  
  
Jacob's breath hitched. He clenched his jaw and pursed his lips, pressing a white-knuckled fist in front of them. Thankfully, the sudden nausea passed before he could humiliate himself even more than he already had. Jacob's cheeks flushed and he continued to look straight ahead, wondering just how weak he had to look at the moment.  
  
Sam lightly rubbed Jacob's back, not saying a word about his friend's shattered demeanor. Jacob had every right to freak out after everything he'd gone through. "I'll be right back," he promised.  
  
Pushing the blankets the rest of the way off, Sam stood, momentarily dismayed by the fact that when he was standing, his smaller friend barely reached halfway up his shin with Jacob sitting down. Sam had never expected such a startling difference, not while he only stood at four inches himself. Maybe when he and Dean managed to break his curse, maybe then he'd have to adjust to such a difference, especially if they visited Bowman, but not now. Not like this.  
  
Sam walked over to where they'd left the bottlecap and Jacob's replacement cup. He grabbed them both, figuring Jacob could use something to wash his face off, at least. They'd need to figure out a way for Jacob to be able to get washed up. The damp rag Sam had used hadn't been able to clean off the worst of the mess.  
  
He came back over, setting down the bottlecap next to Jacob as he sat in front of the other hunter. "Here, this should help," Sam said as he presented the tiny cup full to the brim with water.  
  
Jacob reached out and took the cup, discouraged all over again by how dwarfed it was even in Sam's hands. He couldn't even lift his eyes to Sam's face to murmur his thanks before taking a sip of the water. The cool liquid served to soothe his wrecked throat, coaxing him to take another tentative sip.  
  
Casting his tired gaze to the side, Jacob saw Bowman still lying there curled up under his vibrant green wing. He always curled up like that when he was away from home. Bowman only ever flopped over and lay with haphazard wings when he was either too comfortable or too exhausted to draw his knees close. Jacob had learned this over time hanging out with the sprite in Wellwood, where he was normally much much bigger. Now just one of those wings could wrap all the way around Jacob and hide him from sight, probably even prevent his escape.  
  
Jacob absently stared at the water in his cup,  making sure his first sips wouldn't inspire more nausea. Hangovers were harsh enough without dealing with discouraging thoughts about how a couple of four inch guys would be more than enough to handle him now.  
  
Maybe he deserved it. He'd trapped both of them once upon a time, after all. Maybe Jacob was reaping some kind of twisted karma, a payback from the universe for not handling his first encounters with smaller folk very well.  
  
Jacob experimentally swirled the water in the cup. It was such a simple action. Barely any effort at all. He knew what it felt like to be in a cup swirling around like that now. That wasn't something he'd ever forget, no matter how drunk he was the night before. Maybe the memories were blessedly soft around the edges, but they were there.  
  
"Guess it, uh," he began, finally forcing himself to tilt his head up so he could actually face Sam. He'd always looked up to the guy; might as well know what that meant literally, right? "It takes some getting used to it, huh?" Sam had already been through something close to this. Shrunk down to the point that he was hardly noticeable except by eyes that knew what to look for. Jacob couldn't help but wonder if he'd be able to survive as long as Sam had managed, if he wound up stuck at this stature.  
  
Sam sat back, thinking about his answer. It went far beyond an easy yes or no for him. He tucked his legs in close while Jacob drank his water. “Well… I don’t know if it’s something you can ever really just get used to. I mean, I spent years with my parents at this size, and being with you and Dean… I still get a shock when I see one of you come into a room.”  
  
He closed his eyes for a long moment, on the edge of what he wanted to tell Jacob about his life. But it was important the downsized human understood what it was like. “Jacob, in all the time you’ve known me, have you ever seen me just walk casually in the center of a room? Or stand in the threshold of a door? Even around you and Dean and Bobby, my mind is screaming at me to take cover the moment I’m out in the open. All it would take is one second, just  _one_  of you to not see me, and that’s it. It’s all over. That first hunt you came with me and Dean on, that vengeful spirit? When Dean offered to let me light it up, I was  _terrified._  I was out in the open, these two huge guys standing over me… I barely knew either of you back then and your boots were  _huge,_  so much bigger than me. Walking out in the open like that took every ounce of courage I ever had.”  
  
Sam grew a little sad after that. He’d never shared most of that with anyone else, but Jacob deserved to hear it. He and Sam now shared the experience of being shrunk down until they lost the world they’d been born to. “That’s why I spend so much time with you or Dean. If I’m up on your shoulder, it’s a little easier to pretend I still have control over my life. But in reality, the only control I ever have is what either of you give me. I can’t  _take_  that control from you the way you could back when we first met. I just have to hope that the people around me will treat me the way I treat them. I got lucky having a friend like you, Jacob.”  
  
His hazel eyes sought out Jacob’s, understanding shining in them. “It’s scary, and it’s lonely, and it’s not something I’d ever have wished on you or Dean, but you always need to remember that we’re here for you. Bowman would never let you down, I’ll watch out for you no matter what, the same way you do for me, and Dean… until you’re ready to see him, he’s going to stay away. All you have to do is tell us, and we’ll let him know.”  
  
Even as he said that, the water turned off in the bathroom with a sharp squeak of metal. The sudden silence was almost deafening in the small motel room, opening them up to the sounds from outside. Car doors, children, birds chirping… All held back by a simple motel room door and a deadbolt.  
  
Jacob turned his head slightly, feeling like his whole body reacted to the shift in the sounds. With the water off he was newly reminded that there was indeed a whole world outside the room, even more looming and frightening than before. Chipper birdsong was now the call of animals that could snare him in talons half the length of his body. A family with young children walking by outside was now a set of giants that would see him as a toy or a bug, because what else could he be? He heard the screech of tires as someone came to a sharp stop at the light near the motel. Cars could do some damage to him before but now the rolling metal behemoths would leave nothing behind.  
  
It was a whole world of familiar sounds, but Jacob wasn't a part of it in the same way. The possibility remained that he never would be again. He could spend the rest of his life an inch and a half tall. From what Sam had told him, it wouldn't be easy by even the most generous definitions of the word.  
  
Sam's words lingered in his head. Jacob realized that he was right; he'd spent a lot of time with Sam and never once seen him cross the middle of the floor. In fact, he tended to stay off the floor entirely when he could, or kept to the back of the furniture. An unsettling portion of his life was centered around fear: fear of being seen, fear of being hurt. Fear of people like Jacob, who would trap him just because they had the power and the inclination to do so.  
  
Jacob remembered his first encounter with Sam. How  _terrified_  he'd been because he,  _Jacob,_  had casually trapped him in the name of curiosity. What had seemed like innocent questions to Jacob had frightened the small guy. Sam had believed he'd be taken away, lose his family for the second time, and all because some kid happened to spot him one night, snatching him off the ground with ease.  
  
All because his family had no food and Jacob had happened to drop a cracker. He’d been captured, bruised, terrified, all just to satisfy Jacob’s curiosity.  
  
Jacob had apologized for his actions since then, in words and deeds. He'd always remember the look on Sam's face when his knife was gone and he had no way to get it back. No way to resist the human holding him captive. Seeing his last link to his older brother, to  _Dean,_  taken from him.  
  
And now, Jacob knew firsthand what such total and overwhelming helplessness felt like.  
  
"I ...  _thank you._ " he finally replied, punctuating his gratitude with a few more sips of water. Jacob wished he could say his words of thanks to Dean, too, but the whole reason he was grateful right now was that the man would give him space while he recovered. He needed a little more time. His head still pounded and he felt like shit. He was tiny and scared and there was no guarantee that either of those things would change, but at least he wasn't alone.  
  
"Guess I never really thought about ... I mean, I always knew, obviously, that I was huge to you," he mused, his voice still raw but getting a little tight as he thought about what Sam told him. And about how much trust he knew was invested in him every time the guy stood on his shoulder or walked onto his hand. "I just. I'm. I always tried to be careful after ... after we met. I dunno if it did any good or made any kinda fucking difference but. Now that I  _know_  what ... this," he paused to swallow the lump in his throat and gestured lamely at nothing and everything, indicating the size of the room and the size of them in relation to it. "Feels like, I'm sorry ... again ... for being one of the reasons you couldn't walk across a room."  
  
Sam listened to the words solemnly. He could hear how hard it was on Jacob to accept how different the world was to each of them. It was a strange dash of perspective to a guy that was normally so large. When Sam was a kid and he’d shrunk, it hadn’t been as devastating a difference as what Jacob was going through now.  
  
He scooted over so he was sitting next to Jacob. Unsure if it would help, but determined to try, Sam put an arm around his friend’s slim shoulders. “Jacob,” he said with conviction. “I  _forgive you._  I always have. It’s not your fault that I’m so much smaller.” He smiled at the air. “Out of all the people that could have found me I’m glad it was you. I might never have found my brother without you, after all. I wouldn’t even know if my family was alive or dead today. And maybe… maybe the next time I’m in a room with you when you’re back to normal, I’ll walk across the floor just because I can. Just because you’re there.”  
  
With an arm almost as long as his body settled lightly around his shoulders, Jacob felt supported. He looked up at Sam, still feeling like a child next to him and honestly still weirded out by the fact. He had to blink his tired, sore eyes a few times from the lamp above them, but he actually managed a wan smile that was both immensely relieved and completely grateful for Sam's encouragement. "Won't that be something," he mused. He glanced over the room again, at how vast it all was. He tried to imagine that vastness from the spot on the floor in between all the furniture, and it almost gave him vertigo just thinking about it. He couldn't see himself working up courage like that while he was this size.  
  
He had to turn his eyes away before he lost all the progress he'd made against his headache. He took a few more sips of water, feeling gradually better. His physical recovery was progressing slowly but steadily. His psychological recovery ... would come. He was sure of it.  
  
He let out a quiet, wry chuckle. "I'm definitely glad I shrunk around you guys and not Chase and Bobby. Those guys would have been such shits about it." His friends from years back, though he cared about the guys, probably would not have handled him being tiny with any kind of grace at all. A mistake like the one the night before might not have the chance to be made just because trouble would have found Jacob even sooner.  
  
Sam winced at the thought, an instinctive shudder going up his back. Two humans not used to being around anyone smaller… not to mention the fact that a lot of younger guys were pretty careless. He’d been lucky with Jacob, he knew. He could have gotten a broken arm instead of a few bruises when Jacob closed his fist tight. “Good thing we’re used to strange,” Sam mused. “Not many people would even know where to start looking for a cure.”  
  
The door of the bathroom opened up, a glimmer of light shining into the rest of the room. Dean came out, brushing his wet hair instinctively into its normal spiky mess. He was wearing his jeans and a simple black tee-shirt, his jacket left over by his duffel. He walked over to the table, slightly freezing up when he realized there were two sets of eyes on him. His eyes trailed over to Jacob, a tiny form he could only just make out leaning against his brother. “Oh. Uh. Hey… guys,” Dean managed to get out, his face flushing. He couldn’t see if Jacob reacted to his words, but there was no way for any of the others to miss the way his voice filled the room. “I’ll just be… on the computer. So if you need anything… just tell me.” He couldn’t push an apology past his lips. He didn’t deserve to ask for forgiveness. He might never deserve it after what he’d done.  
  
He couldn’t help slightly hunching his shoulders as he walked, his steps far softer than they’d been the night before. He’d had his face rubbed in his size since then, and he hated it. As cautiously as he could, he sat down in the same chair, pulling his laptop over.   
  
He was afraid of looking over and seeing the fear on Jacob’s face again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the truth isn't pretty.
> 
> **Next:** November 19 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	19. Opposing Perspectives

With Dean back in the room, Jacob had a reminder of just how small he was. It was easy to forget that with the titan out of sight. Once upon a time,  _he’d_  been an unknown giant to Sam. Somehow the spell from that mushroom had made Dean just as scary to Jacob as Jacob had been to Sam way back then. Maybe even more so.  
  
Jacob hated the guilty feeling that settled in his gut along with that hollow, hungover feeling and the simple fear that his instincts begged him to listen to. He was  _afraid._ And, though he truly hated to admit it to himself, his fears had latched onto Dean.  
  
 _Dean._  One of his best friends and his mentor.  
  
Jacob had been intimidated when he showed up at Dean's door with Sam hiding in his hood, ready to reunite the two brothers after over ten years. Dean's empty glare had given him pause back then, despite the hopeful demeanor that had carried him to the door. It was as though a part of Dean had died all those years ago when he'd lost his brother and Jacob was looking at a ghost. After entering, he’d discovered Dean had a gun hidden behind the door, ready to take care of anyone that might mean him harm.  
  
In the year since, Dean had become such a different man. Still cautious and still very much a threat to anyone that might think about giving him, or especially Sam, trouble, he'd become kind and patient after discovering that his baby brother was alive. Jacob had always been proud that he could do that for those two, and that Dean had taken him on as something of a student in the hunter lifestyle. They were  _friends._  
  
 _He shouldn't have to be hanging his head in shame over there,_  Jacob reasoned, though he refused to look "over there," instead keeping his gaze on the cup in his hands.  _He didn't mean to ... do that. He's kicking the shit out of himself over it. You gotta tell him it wasn't his fault. Have him come over here and say it right to his face so he knows you're not freaked out because of_ him, _it's just the whole fucked up situation._  
  
Jacob battled with his thoughts for several seconds, and couldn't convince himself yet. All he had to do was glance over and see Dean's hands at a vast keyboard, each fingertip casually slamming the keys with enough force to completely destroy Jacob's skeleton as he typed. Every keystroke put him on edge.  
  
 _Oh boy. This is gonna be tough._  
  
Sam lightly squeezed Jacob’s shoulder, recognizing the way he stiffened just watching Dean. He wanted to offer any support he could, even though it hurt to see his brother and one of his best friends at odds like that.  
  
Because of their  _size_.  
  
After all the time with Dean, Sam had thought they’d gotten past the issue of their sizes, but adding in a third size, this one far smaller than Sam himself had thrown a loop at them that nobody had expected. He was coming to realize that it was dangerous to have Jacob and Dean near each other, never mind if Dean had to  _hold_  Jacob. Sam would just have to make sure to keep near Jacob any time it came up.  
  
Across the room, Dean stayed intent on the screen in front of him. He could almost feel that he was being stared at while he worked. Trying to ignore the feeling, he started up new search, digging through options that they’d considered for Sam once upon a time. None of them had worked, obviously, but since it was something different than his curse, Dean hoped to have better luck.  
  
While Sam, Jacob, and Dean all lost in thoughts of their monumental problem, Bowman provided a welcome distraction. The sprite rolled over suddenly, his wing slipping off of himself as he opened his bright green eyes and then blinked them rapidly. He sat up and stretched leafy green wings behind him, and Jacob stared at them in awe. They were huge, and powerful, and even more badass than on his normal scale.  
  
Bowman relaxed again, sitting with his wings resting behind him and his hands idly in his lap. It was obvious that he hadn't fully awakened yet from the set in his shoulders and the droop in his eyelids. Jacob had to smile faintly at the sprite who, despite everything, still had such difficulty waking up first thing in the morning.  
  
Sam turned his attention to the relaxed sprite too, giving a partial smile at the sleepy demeanor. “So, still not a morning person?” Sam asked as brightly as he could fake, knowing that a happy-go-lucky attitude like that could piss off anyone that wasn’t a morning person. Needling Bowman would be a good distraction.  
  
Bowman turned a tired, exasperated gaze in Sam's direction. A bright tone like that was just too much. It shouldn't be possible, this soon after waking, for him to even hear such nonsense. "No," he answered simply, letting the blunt word carry sass with it rather than crafting more of an answer. It was too early for it.  
  
He rustled his wings and folded them slowly to his back, his eyes drifting to Jacob. The little --  _That's still just blasted weird_ \-- human looked absolutely awful. His hair and clothes were bedraggled, in the way that only something that had been soaked in something more than water could be. Beer and ...   
  
Bowman shoved the thought away as violently as his tired mind would allow. It was a ghastly notion and he didn't want to dwell on it anymore than anyone else in the room did. He even knew a little of what it felt like, and multiplying his own experience to match Jacob’s at all made his heart flutter.  
  
"Good morning, Jacob," Bowman greeted, offering a half smile. It was the best he could do so soon after waking. He wanted to go dive into the sunbeam that filtered across the nearby bed, but he'd hold off until he knew how his friend was doing.  
  
Jacob chuckled weakly. "Morning, Bowman. Don't go putting on grand airs on my account, I know it's early for you," he teased, relieved that he could still manage that much at least. He even managed to partway mimic Sam's cheerful tone, though his voice was still strained from his aching throat. The sprite gave him an eyeroll and a flicker of his wings for the trouble.  
  
“Early?” Sam said with a snort. “We’ve gotta get you used to  _real_  early hours. This is nothing.” He gave a confident smirk of his own, letting himself get into his own swing. “Usually I’d already do a run around the edge of the room. Get in a good jog before the day’s half gone. And you’ll miss all that early morning sun!” His eyes landed on the leafy wings, still amazed at how much they did. Bowman was the only one of them who could live off of the sun alone. The sprites still ate, but if there was a shortage of food, they’d suffer less than any other living creature so long as the sun shone.  
  
That kind of challenge demanded a retort. In the name of sass, Bowman woke up a little more as his snark reared its head. The briefest flicker of a glance at Jacob preceded his comment. "Early morning sun  _is_  sweet, but I've always been beholden to those noonday rays," he quipped, as if the sunlight had a different "taste" depending on the time of day. In truth, sunlight always brought the most energized feeling, a rejuvenating warmth that carried from the broad wings to the rest of a wood sprite's body.  
  
Jacob smiled, more genuine and less forced. It was good to hear Bowman sassing. It was normal. Just as it was normal for Jacob to sit back and watch Bowman get riled up by someone else. Though if he had an opportunity to join in ... "You mean you've actually  _had_  morning rays before? Who would have thought?"  
  
Bowman rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, though he didn't complain about being ganged up on. Inwardly he was tremendously glad to see Jacob actually smiling about something, even if it was giving Bowman a hard time. "Just because it takes me a while to wake up doesn't mean I can't wake up earlier. I sleep when I'm tired and pretty much fly the rest of the time, no need to worry about sleeping the sun up."  
  
Sam smirked. "You'll have to find a substitute for coffee one day," he teased, remembering Bowman's reaction from the bitter (to Sam) beverage. The sprite had a fast metabolism, resulting in him being  _wired_  whenever he imbibed. If anyone had ever literally bounced off of the walls...  
  
"Maybe if you get some coffee you'll start waking up with the dawn. You might be able to keep up with me then." He gave Bowman a grin.  
  
Bowman sent Sam a sharp look then, his wings actually bristling at the challenge. "Keep up with you?" he echoed, sounding like he really didn't believe what he heard. Then again, as someone who prided himself on being the fastest and most skilled flyer in his village, he might actually not believe it. "I'll race circles around you," he asserted with pride, though he grinned good-naturedly.  
  
Jacob rolled his eyes. "Not in the mornings you won't," he retorted.  
  
Bowman rustled his wings, almost surprised to find the action drawing Jacob's eyes. He supposed it shouldn't surprise him; rustling the wings was meant to make a distracting noise. It was a diversionary tactic to enable a sprite to make an escape from a predator normally, or in this case show off playful irritation. To Jacob, it was magnified, and it was easy to see the awe on his small face.  
  
"You people have no blasted faith in me," Bowman griped, rolling his eyes dramatically.  
  
Jacob chuckled but it drew a cough out of him so he refrained from making noise so he could sip the rest of his water. While he recovered from the near hacking fit, he glanced over to the bottlecap that Sam had brought him. He turned where he sat so he wouldn't bump Sam's arm, but then set his cup down so he could pool some of the water in his hands.  
  
Even room temperature, it felt good on his face. He scrubbed lightly, finding that the simple massaging over his eyes did wonders for his headache. It also reminded him of how gross the rest of him was. His clothes were dry but stiff from what had dried into them. The beer left them almost stuck. Jacob sighed heavily and thought that of many things, a full dip in some water, clothes and all, was just what he needed at the moment.  
  
 _Getting_  that water would prove to be the difficult part. He blinked owlishly and sat back from the bottlecap, pensively considering his options. There weren't many, for someone smaller than the average person's pinkie. He looked over his shoulder up at Sam.  
  
"I think, uh. I could really use a wash," he admitted sheepishly. His hands rested on his knees, clenched into fists as he thought about what he planned to ask. "I'll ... I won't freak out if Dean comes over here but I'm guessing he's the guy to ask for help on that one, right?" The question spilled out of him quickly before he could chicken out and change his mind. Sam and Bowman probably couldn't easily set something up for Jacob. At least, not as easily as Dean could.  
  
And he might as well try to be around the guy sometime without getting twitchy. He could call it a test run.  
  
Sam shrugged sheepishly. "We could probably figure something out, but yeah. It would probably take an hour to do and Bowman would get in a fight with the soap." He couldn't quite hold in a grin at the thought of Bowman discovering exactly how slippery a bar of soap was when he was trying to fly to the nightstand with it. "Dean's the best bet."  
  
Sam glanced over at the table where his brother's shoulders were hunched. "If you're sure..." he said quietly. When there was no answer otherwise, he told Jacob "You might want to cover your ears." Once assured that his volume wouldn’t alarm the much smaller human sitting next to him, Sam looked back over at Dean.  
  
"Dean!" he called out.  
  
Dean reacted instantly with a near-flinch, straightening in his seat to look over at them. Knowing him, he'd been listening for them all morning, ready to help out in a second's notice, or prepared to stay over at the table for the rest of the day if he had to. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice a subdued rumble.  
  
"Do you have anything Jacob could use to get washed up in?" Sam inquired. He winced at the thought of how gross Jacob must feel. "Something more than a damp washcloth."  
  
Dean glanced around the room thoughtfully. "I should be able to figure something out..." he trailed off. He could always cut down one of the beer cups... no. That was a bad idea considering the night before. Jacob might have flashbacks of his near-demise. They needed to keep his thoughts  _away_  from those events, give him a chance to heal. Remembering something, he stood up and went into the bathroom.  
  
There was a shallow bowl that held a bar of soap. A fleeting grin came to him at the thought of how it would be perfectly sized for the smallest hunter. The grin vanished when he remembered  _why_  Jacob needed it. Grabbing it, he washed out the curve where the soap had left a residue, getting it completely clear.  
  
He ran the water in the faucet for a few minutes, letting it heat to a good temperature. A sliver of soap was left on the side of the bowl for Jacob to use. It looked like it still might be more than he needed. Once he had it brimming with warm water, he shuffled carefully over to the nightstand, keeping his steps as steady as he could so they weren't jarred.  
  
Jacob didn't move a muscle. Even Dean’s most careful steps rattled in the nightstand. He wondered what it would feel like if Dean actually had his shoes on. Jacob barely breathed. That hand, laden with a huge basin of water, was like a low flying plane coming ever closer.  
  
Dean knelt and lowered the soap dish to the center of the nightstand, placing it lightly on the surface. "Okay, so just let me know if you need anything else. I'll just be doing research..." He figured they didn't want him sticking around, so he shifted in place, readying himself to stand back up.  
  
Jacob's gaze flicked swiftly from the arm overhead to the face leaning near. He clenched his jaw at the sight of that mouth moving, the seemingly innocuous source of all his terror. Jacob didn't want to stare but he couldn't look away. Suddenly he understood completely how Bowman had felt after miraculously escaping the jaws of a wolf. It was the kind of experience that'd stick with him.  
  
Jacob actually let Dean's words filter into his mind after a moment’s terrified pause. The low rumble of the giant voice was weary and sad. Jacob could see Dean's regret in cinemascope. Those green eyes, focused on the group on the nightstand, looked hurt and scared and disgusted over what had happened. What  _Dean_  thought he'd done.  
  
"Dean," Jacob forced out, making himself unfreeze. "Waitasecond."  
  
It seemed almost like Jacob had passed along his inability to move right to Dean, because the titan-sized human halted immediately to listen. Jacob managed to suppress a shudder as the specific focus of a very large being settled on him. He had to get something off his chest and hopefully off Dean's enormous shoulders.  
  
"It ... it wasn't your fault, a-alright?" he called up, making his voice loud enough that hopefully Dean heard him. It was frustrating that communicating was  _this_  hard, even without the nerves going nuts all over Jacob's body. His voice hurt to use at a normal volume, and it sounded as bad as it felt. But Dean  _had_  to know.  
  
"I'm not ... I don't  _blame_  you, okay, Dean?" He paused to cough and massage his temples. Even with Dean leaning close, it was dizzying to look up at him. "You ... you better at least believe that."  
  
Jacob knew it would be some time before he was able to handle being as small as he was without tensing at every sound or watching Dean walk with wary eyes. And, according to Sam, if Jacob stayed this way ... he'd probably never be able to fully let his guard down. It was a harsh truth, but that wasn't Dean's fault. Jacob made himself keep the stunned hunter's gaze despite the deeper breaths that made his tiny chest rise and fall.  
  
Dean almost wilted under Jacob's gaze. Even with Jacob so comparatively small, Dean could see the stiffness and the barely concealed fear in his friend, and he knew it was all because of  _him_. He'd earned that fear.  
  
Taking a few deep breaths through his nose, he tried to calm his racing pulse a little. It pounded in his head, memories forcing him to relive the night before. Those memories would probably always haunt him, as sharp as jagged shards of glass in his mind. He clenched his hand into a fist where it was hanging by his side, keeping it out of sight of the others.  
  
"Jacob, I..." Dean faltered, trying to find the words. He couldn't even  _imagine_  the horror his friend had gone through. "I just... I'm  _sorry_. I was stupid, I was careless, and I wasn't paying attention, and you paid the price for that." His fist started to shake. "It's just... really hard to believe it wasn't my fault when  _I’m_  the one that did it."  
  
"Well, I forgive you, alright?" Jacob shot back, surprisingly confident in at least one thing. Maybe it'd be impossible to convince Dean not to blame himself for what happened. Maybe the guy would always be haunted by it, just like Jacob probably would too. But,  _dammit,_  scared or not, Jacob wasn't about to burn bridges with one of his _best friends_  over it. "Th-there  _is_  such a thing as an accident, Dean," Jacob added, his voice beginning to give out.  
  
Dean flinched back at the words. He could hear how tough it was for Jacob to speak and did his best to reassure him. "Yeah. Okay. Uh... thanks." He didn't know if he deserved it but he wasn't about to make Jacob shout at him to get his point across. "You... just focus on getting yourself better, alright? Let Sam know if you need anything, and he'll get me."  
  
He shifted back from the stand holding his three small friends, people that meant everything to him. "I'll work on research for now." With that, he put his hands on his knees, going to a smooth stand. His face fell when he straightened, unable to see Jacob's face from his new point of view.  
  
He shuffled away again, this time stumbling slightly on his broken toe. With effort, he managed to unclench his fist, forcing it to a relaxed position by the time he was sitting back at the table. He turned back to his laptop, desperate for a cure. All he wanted was his friend back to normal. Jacob shouldn’t have to look up at everything with so much raw  _fear_  in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends separated by size Next: November 26th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	20. Progress in the Right Direction

Jacob released a slow breath. He really hated that having a friend nearby made him nervous just because of his size. The thought hit him like a freight train that Bowman and Sam might have felt like that about  _him_  for some time before they got used to him. He’d never made the connection and he hated that he was such an object of fear once upon a time.  
  
 _Now I really get it,_  he thought with some melancholy, thinking back to their behavior at first. Sam was always apologizing for every little thing and Bowman kept those keen little eyes alert at all times. Instinct told them that bigger people were dangerous, and instinct was right. Jacob was unsettled by Dean just walking around.  
  
 _At least he listened to you. Kinda,_  he reminded himself as he got to his feet. A surprised huff escaped his lips as the task strained his aching ribs. He saw Bowman lean towards him slightly and had to hold up a hand before the sprite decided to help him up.  
  
Standing, Jacob took slow, even breaths. It seemed strange that he'd still get a headrush despite not standing very tall at all. He just barely came up to Sam's knee, and Bowman was taller than him sitting down. These guys should be able to fit comfortably in the pockets of his hoodie, but instead they were big enough to carry him around like a little kid. In many ways, that was the most bizarre thing about being less than two inches tall.  
  
"Okay," he rasped, his throat done with him trying to speak with much volume. "I'll... I'll be over here." And with that announcement he made his way towards the center of the nightstand where the would-be shallow bowl of water waited for him. It was more than twice his length across, but if he were to crawl in, it would only get to his waist at the deepest. He would think he’d have to try really hard to get himself hurt in it, but after the night before, Jacob was wary of everything.  
  
Unable to resist the siren call of the clean water any longer, he hoisted himself up without even bothering to get his jacket off first, and rolled gingerly into the soothing warm water. His clothes would all need to get clean, too; they were all he had. He already felt a little better as he edged forward, getting himself to the deeper water carefully so he didn't slip on the bottom of the slick soap dish.  
  
As soon as his footing was stable, Jacob ducked his head under the water, immediately scrubbing his hands through his hair and on his face. He surfaced again and unzipped his black hoodie, setting it at the side of the pool to just soak. His dark blue tee was tougher to peel away, already clinging to his skin and requiring him to lift his arms up to do so. The action made him hiss with surprised pain.  
  
But he had to assess the damage. Jacob winced when he saw the angry red and purple marks adorning his sides. Bruised ribs, without question. They definitely won out for ugliest bruises he could find, though the almost sickle-shaped one on his arm from a penny stung as well. Jacob was careful as he brushed the sliver of soap over his injuries, grimacing on occasion but making no noise.  
  
While Jacob got himself clean, taking his time that no one would begrudge him to rid himself of the gross feeling, Bowman shifted so that he sat right on the edge of the nightstand with his legs dangling over the side. He kept his back to the human, giving him as much privacy as he could, though Bowman didn't fly for the sunbeam just yet; he wanted to make sure Jacob was doing okay.  
  
Until that point, he could wait. He glanced over at Sam. "Do you think your brother is going to be okay?" he asked in a hush, more than a little concerned. He couldn't get it out of his head, the image of an enormous human cowering in the corner from a sprite. Bowman pretended to flare his wings and do threat displays with the humans all the time, but he never actually expected to see something like  _that_  on Dean's face.  
  
Sam followed Bowman’s example, dangling his legs off the edge of the nightstand. To give himself a moment to mull it over, he peered down at the floor, trying to imagine it from Jacob’s new perspective. It would be as though Sam was standing near the ceiling, staring down at the floor from a yawning drop. And, unlike Sam, Jacob wasn’t an expert climber. He had no wings to spread like Bowman did. Unless someone was there to catch him, he wouldn’t survive a fall from such a height.  
  
Sam let out a sigh, his eyes drifting over to Dean at last. “I don’t know,” he admitted.   
  
Dean was hard to predict most days. After over ten years apart, a lot had changed in the older hunter. He was harder, harsher than he’d been as a teen, and Sam had no idea how he’d gotten that way. “Dean… his entire life is built around  _helping_  people.  _Saving_  them. For something like that to happen… to almost kill someone he promised to watch out for… it’ll shred him to pieces inside. He told me once that if he didn’t hunt monsters like this, he’d want to be a fireman. A person that runs into burning buildings just so they can save everyone they can, anyone that’s trapped and in danger. And I don’t think he’d stop if there was anyone still in the building. He’s gonna need time before he forgives himself, but if anyone pushes, he’ll just close up and bottle it up inside. He always does.”   
  
Sam might have only been back with Dean for a year, but he’d already seen his brother shut down so many times. A wall that not even Sam could slip by would be thrown up if anyone pushed him too hard. Dean had to come to some conclusions on his own. He either wouldn’t or just plain  _couldn’t_  accept any help. It wasn’t up to Jacob, or Bowman, or even Sam to help him out of this one.  
  
Bowman's eyes were wide from hearing that there were humans who actually ran into burning dwellings. On purpose. And yet, from what he knew of Dean and how the human tended to act, he couldn't even bring himself to disbelieve those words. Dean  _would_  put that much effort into saving someone. He'd saved Bowman from a wolf  _and_  a lich only a day after meeting him. And their meeting hadn’t gone smoothly ... Sam had gotten hurt and if he hadn't recovered, Bowman might not have lasted much longer.  
  
Comparing those first hours to their easy (if very, very snarky) friendship now was like night and day. Much like it was night and day to see the difference between Dean's usual confident attitude and the broken slump in his shoulders now. Having his entire worldview shaken like that, his one goal in life ... it would be tough.  
  
Bowman sighed and nodded. "I hope he can find out what he needs in order to forgive, then. I know Jacob is still skittish as a fawn but he doesn't want Dean to feel guilty forever." Jacob just wasn't that kind of person. Bowman knew that, and he could see it plain as day while Jacob was sitting there trying to convince the larger hunter that he was forgiven. Jacob was afraid, but he didn’t want to be.  
  
"I guess in the meantime I won't pester him about it," Bowman promised, glancing over at the human again.  
  
“That’s probably a good idea,” Sam had to agree.  
  
“Don’t expect any promises about back talk, though,” Bowman warned. He knew better than to make promises he couldn't keep. Sam put his hands up in surrender with a grin.  
  
In the soap dish less than a foot away, Jacob brushed water from his face with his hands while he listened to the idle conversation. The temperature had dropped off quickly from the original soothing warmth, and he was beginning to shiver. He pulled his sopping wet clothes back on, glad he'd taken the time to scrub them out, too. Without the feeling of dried beer coating him, he felt remarkably better despite the chill seeping into his tiny bones.  
  
 _Do Sam and Bowman get cold this easily?_  he asked himself, as he slinked over to the washcloth from before, closer to where the other two were sitting. He settled on it, and pulled a layer of fluffy fabric over himself to bundle up closely. He sighed, admittedly feeling worlds better with a clearer head and some distance from his wretched state the night before. Jacob was just in time to see a smile working its way onto Sam’s face as he got an idea.  
  
“Honestly, if you stopped back talking him every five minutes, Dean would think there was something wrong with  _you_. We might have to see if sprites ever need to be exorcised. Douse you in some holy water.” Sam was grinning broadly by the end, imagining Dean with a spray bottle of holy water, trying to squirt a spazzing Bowman on the ceiling. They would never hear the end of  _that_  one. Bowman would be yelling at them from the top of the curtains for the rest of the day.  
  
Jacob snickered. He was fairly certain that, with their unique connections to the Spirit that created them, sprites were safe from demonic possession. But the thought of an irate Bowman soaked from holy water griping up a storm was too funny. Jacob doubted he even knew the word 'exorcise', so it was anyone's guess what he was thinking as he bristled and flickered his wings irritably. Maybe Bowman wouldn't be amused by it, but he was so easy to rile up that it'd be impossible not to laugh.  
  
When Bowman shot him a scathing look, Jacob just smirked back at him from where he was huddled in the cloth. "Hey, it's not a bad idea," he said, his throat still sore but his voice stronger than it had been. With his hangover waning, Jacob was improving by the second. Even Bowman's glare didn't faze him; the sprite was full of the same old bark-but-no-bite attitude he always had. "I mean, we'd only be looking out for you, Bowman. Making sure you were safe from demons and all."  
  
"I don't even know what those are!" Bowman answered exasperatedly, his wings flaring up as if he were throwing his hands in the air. "Don't tell me, either, I don't need to add  _another_  beast to my list of things to worry about. Liches are bad enough."  
  
Jacob chuckled, but didn't argue with him. Out of the four of them, Bowman was the most recent addition to their group. He'd been the intended victim for a foul lich, along with the other wood sprites in his home. His connection to life energy made him the perfect target for an ancient necromancer. The sprites had lived so peacefully in their forest for generations, that they didn't even know humans existed until Jacob and Dean captured him. Originally they'd thought he was the  _cause_  of the animal attacks in the area, but had quickly learned that, all threats to bop them aside, Bowman was a pacifist along with the rest of his people.  
  
Jacob would never forget the generosity it took Bowman to leave his forest to help him. Realizing that he was already mostly dry (being small had one perk, at least), he shuffled out of the wash cloth and made his way closer to the pair of them. He hesitated before opting to sit down well over an inch from the edge of the nightstand where they so casually swung their long legs. It was too much of a drop for him.  
  
When Jacob arrived, Sam shifted so he could see the other human, leaving only one leg dangling off the side. He gave Jacob one of his trademark smiles, remembering the times in the past he’d broken the tension between Dean and Jacob with it. After finding out he’d trapped and injured Sam, Dean hadn’t been overly keen on the other human, and had nearly thrown him out of his motel room after knocking the kid to the floor with one punch. Luckily, after all their years separated, Dean had no defense against Sam’s happy attitude and acceptance of the large human teen.  
  
Because of that, Jacob had joined up with them more than once, learning to fight everything from vengeful spirits to ancient liches. He’d treated Sam like he was  _normal_ , giving Sam the courage to face Bobby and let him know he’d survived. As much as Sam appreciated his brother, Dean had a habit of getting overprotective or orney with anything he thought was risky. Jacob was more easygoing and felt like Sam was just chilling out like anyone else.  
  
Switching back to Bowman, Sam grinned even brighter. “It could be worse. If we thought you had a ghost in you, you’d have Dean chasing you around with the salt and trying to chase it out. Or sneaking salt into your fruit, that way when you ate it the ghost would leave.”  
  
The disgusted look on Bowman's face, seen in a large scale like that, was absolutely  _priceless._  The sprite straightened with his wings rigid as if he were actually offended by the very  _thought_  of ruining fruit like that. "You wouldn't do something like  _that,_ " the sprite insisted, sounding as put off as he looked, and finally drew a laugh from Jacob.  
  
"You say that," he replied between chuckles, "but you have no idea." It got a terse sigh from Bowman, who no doubt couldn't stop imagining such a tragedy befalling anyone. "Why would salt bother you so much? You eat straight  _pine sap,_  that shit tastes nasty!" In fact, Jacob distinctly remembered the sprite convincing him to try the sticky substance before. He had been skeptical, but had also wildly underestimated Bowman's liking for extremely bitter things. "I couldn't get rid of the taste for like three days."  
  
Bowman finally had his turn to smirk. "Salt and pine sap are different things, human. One of them actually tastes good." That said, he reached out a hand towards Jacob, who watched it in surprise until it settled on top of his head. Jacob had to duck begrudgingly as his hair was ruffled. Bowman had received the exact same from him multiple times. From the grin on his face, he'd been looking forward to an opportunity to do that since Jacob shrank.  
  
Sam wrinkled his nose. "I think I'll skip the pine sap," he said dryly. From what he'd heard about it, pine sap the way Bowman liked it was more bitter than a hot cup of black coffee. Considering he didn't have a taste for that, he doubted there was any chance he'd enjoy the other.  
  
Dean might actually be able to drink pine sap without gagging. After years of bitter coffee and hard whiskey and anything else Bobby bought, he had to have a stomach of iron. Sam wondered idly if Dean would take a dare. Finding something that Dean wouldn't try at least once would shock them all. Unless it was salad or health food, Dean would eat just about anything.  
  
"Salt doesn't ruin _everything_ ," Sam pointed out. "It tastes great on tomatoes, after all."  
  
Bowman tilted his head. He vaguely remembered tomatoes, though of course they didn't grow in Wellwood so they weren't the most memorable fruit for him. "Those are the weird red berries that don't taste like berries, right?" he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Salt on a berry? Even those weird ones? They had to be teaming up to tease him. It wouldn’t be the first time.  
  
Jacob smiled faintly. After hanging around Bowman as much as he did in his spare time, he was used to the sprite having lots of questions like that. They seemed so obvious to him because he grew up around the answer, but Bowman hadn't. Bowman grew up with a very limited, idyllic view of the world, and it often showed in the way he fixated on some of the most mundane human things. When Bowman had discovered how zippers worked, he'd mused about them off and on for days. That had turned out to be a universal sprite fascination, as Jacob had discovered with Bowman’s family.  
  
"Those are the ones," he confirmed. "You guys don't end up with a lot of salt, anyway, do you?" he asked, and Bowman shook his head. Considering how hard it was to come by in Wellwood, it was no wonder Bowman didn't have much of a taste for it.  
  
"We don't use it for food as much anyway.  _Some_  people are weird like humans, but more often we use it to scrub inking mistakes out of the archives," Bowman explained. And thank the Spirit they had a way to do that. The archives were the entire history of the wood sprites in that village. Halls and pathways Prayed into a thick cottonwood tree in the village sported passages of curling script on all the walls, ceilings, and floors. A walk into the oldest parts of the structures within that tree was a walk into the past.  
  
"Maybe you'll have to try it," Sam offered. "After all, you got Jacob to try  _pine sap,_  so it's only fair. If you put it on the right food and don't go overboard it helps the flavor."  
  
He shifted away from the edge so he was closer to Jacob and crossed his legs. Sitting this way it was easier to include their third member in the conversation. It still felt odd to have him on the nightstand and not towering over them on the bed, but Sam was starting to adjust to it and that wasn't good. They needed to fix this for Jacob's own good. Four inches wasn't so bad, but barely one and a half? There was nothing Jacob could do to defend himself at that size. Even if he had a knife of his own, it would be so small that a human might not even notice.  
  
"I've always wanted to visit those archives," Sam revealed. "We just never seem to have the time when we're in town. I'd love to read your history." He'd studied the letters carefully that Bowman had inscribed in his journal. It was easy to learn, nothing compared to Latin. He'd be eager to put his skills with that alphabet to the test.  
  
Bowman stretched his arms over his head, smiling a little proudly. "I guess you've earned a chance to see them sometime, Sam, since you're in them now," he admitted, sitting back so he could look at the two humans a little easier.  
  
Jacob was intrigued by this. "Wait ... did they put the case with the lich in your history?" he asked, almost sounding hopeful. He'd wanted to be able to see those archives ever since he heard about them, same as Sam. But he'd never be able to ...   
  
 _Damn, I missed a golden opportunity back at the village!_  
  
Bowman chuckled. "Uhhhh, the discovery of giants, and a thing bringing wolves to life to steal our spiritual connections?  _Yeah_  that went into the archives. And 'they' didn't put them in there. I did. I made sure all of your parts in the story are inked in."  
  
"That's ... that's really cool," Jacob answered, awed and also bemused by how casually Bowman revealed the information. He and Sam and Dean were written into the sprites' archives. They'd be there for as long as the village stood in that forest near the huge oak tree.  
  
Sam was equally awed at the thought of being put down in the archives. "Really?" he asked in surprise. "I always figured... well I'm not exactly the most memorable person around, with always having to stay hidden. I never really expected to, y'know... be remembered. Especially not in any histories." As much work as he put into his journal, he didn't even expect anyone else to even read  _that_. People his size didn't have much use for books, and humans were too big. Dean had squinted at it once or twice, but the words were beyond his sight.  
  
Bowman gave him a proud grin in reply. “Well, you're inked in now. No getting away from it.”  
  
Jacob chuckled, and then his gaze drifted over to Dean, who remained planted in front of the laptop, wearily searching for something, anything that could help  _Jacob_  out of his current state. And Jacob knew he'd put his all into helping the miniaturized hunter. He always put his all into helping anybody, and that was exactly why Wellwood had immortalized his name.  
  
He thought that Jacob didn't want him anywhere close. Jacob sighed; skittish or not, he didn't want one of his closest friends to keep thinking that. Dean didn't deserve it. So, with tentative resolve, he pushed aside his concerns to say "Maybe we should go over there and help with research? I mean ... I dunno how much help  _I_  can be but he shouldn't have to do  _all_  the work, y'know?"  
  
Trying to hide his surprise, Sam glanced over at Jacob before switching his gaze to Dean. The older hunter was sitting hunched over the computer, his expression practically swimming in stress. Understanding exactly how hard it was for Jacob to ask that, Sam tried to lighten the mood a little. "I suppose we can't leave  _all_  the research to Dean... you know how much fun he always has when he gets stuck with it. He usually just ends up bribing me to do it for him."  
  
Pulling himself to a crouch, Sam put his hands on his knees. "Are you sure?" he asked Jacob carefully, offering him a chance to change his mind before he called Dean over.  
  
Jacob, reminded of how much he had to look up to Sam when the guy was just  _crouching,_  raised his eyebrows. He felt so tiny even next to people he knew to be four inches tall, and he wondered if he often made them feel like this. Probably every time he was around.  
  
He sighed again and nodded. He needed to try. "Yeah. I'm sure." At least he'd have Sam around as a buffer. Getting used to things at this size without someone a little closer to his scale would be tough. "Let's save Dean from all that research."  
  
Sam gave him a wry grin in return before he stood. "Hey Dean!" he called out, taking a step away from Jacob so he wasn't looming. It felt  _weird_  that he actually  _could_ loom like that. Once he had his brother's attention, he gave Dean a scowling mock-glare. "You gonna give us a hand or what, jerk?" He smirked at the way Dean's eyebrows climbed his face. There was no better way to get Dean back to his normal self than snarking at him.  
  
Dean had to work hard to hold in a retort. Then, as the request sunk in, his brow lowered in confusion. "You guys wanted to join me?" he asked in slight bafflement.  
  
When Sam did nothing more than cross his arms and stare back at him, Dean sighed at his stubbornness. "Whatever. This means you're doing the research then," he said with a slight smirk.  
  
He came over to the nightstand, feeling a little bit better when he saw Jacob looking more like himself. "Hey, Jacob," he said softly. "You, ahh... you're looking good." He carefully stretched his hand out next to the nightstand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're getting better, I promise! 
> 
> These two guys really just... need a vacation.
> 
> Sam is the real MVP today
> 
> **Next:** November 29 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	21. Phones and Laptops

Dean's steps shook the nightstand as he approached. Jacob took a steadying breath and got to his feet. It was so bizarre that simple steps across a room could translate into Jacob's body in such a big way. And then, Dean's voice did the same. The sound of his comment actually reverberated in Jacob's chest. It shook his arms and legs like tuning rods.  
  
 _Not a problem. Still just Dean._  
  
Jacob chuckled faintly and shrugged. "Well,  _yeah,_  I mean, when am I not looking awesome, right?" he joked. He stepped towards the offered hand cautiously, knowing this was probably the only way he'd convince Dean that he forgave the guy. He couldn’t hesitate here.   
  
The fingertips bridged right to the edge of the nightstand were huge. Jacob could sit atop one of them with room to spare. Not that he ever would, considering how easy it was to offset his balance. He was going to keep as far from the edge of Dean's hand as he could, especially when the massive man started walking.  
  
He took a steeling breath, glancing once over the side of the nightstand to see the immense drop. Then, he took that first careful step off the solid wooden surface of the table and onto one of Dean's fingertips. While there was no give to the surface, the texture was notably different from the flat wooden nightstand. Every twitch in the enormous hand was glaringly obvious to him at this size, though Dean never noticed them himself.  
  
Jacob took a few careful steps forward, but he barely made it to Dean's first knuckle before he stumbled and pitched forward. He tumbled head over heels onto Dean's hand and a  _whuff_  of air rushed out of his lungs. He rolled to a stop on his back, his eyes wide and staring straight up. A few deep breaths restored his bearings, enough to realize he'd fallen right to the base of Dean's fingers.  
  
"Well that's one way to do it," he tried to play it off, but felt his cheeks heating up from the clumsy mishap.  
  
Dean couldn’t hold in a chuckle at the abashed Jacob on his palm. As Sam grabbed his satchel, leaving his dirtied jacket behind, Dean shifted the hand a little so the flesh around Jacob was cupped, keeping him safely away from any edges as long as the fingers remained closed. It was strange to see how some of the wrinkles on his palm loomed over Jacob while he was lying flat on his back. Dean was careful not to pinch any of those tiny limbs as he shifted.  
  
“Maybe you should let Sam give you some pointers,” Dean joked. “I think he’s the leading expert on standing on hands around here. He could even show you a thing or two about climbing.”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes as he walked across the fingers, sitting down near Jacob. “At least Jacob isn’t afraid of heights like _you_. He might actually have a chance at climbing like this. You’d be clinging to a finger the entire time you were being carried.”  
  
Dean rolled his own eyes in response, but he had a growing smile on his face. Things finally felt like they were returning to normal. “Well, if you guys are ready, let's get this show on the road.”   
  
With the banter going back and forth, Jacob wouldn't admit it, but  _he_  wouldn't mind something to hang onto once that hand rose into the air. He didn't even bother to try to sit up until the rapid upwards motion finished, opting instead to grip the crevices in the warm skin he rested on. Dean's pulse thrummed away beneath him, the blood rushing under the surface and bringing warmth with each rush.  
  
When Dean turned back towards the table and the rush of air changed direction, Jacob pushed himself up and scooted closer to Sam trying not to think about how far he'd fall if he got blown off the side of Dean's hand. He wound up using Sam as a windbreak. Everyone moved so  _fast,_  even though Dean paced himself and walked as smoothly as he could.  
  
Dean was careful when he lowered his hand to the table, but Jacob couldn't help but feel like he was on a fast elevator going down. Weightlessness settled in and left a butterfly feeling in his stomach for a second, and his legs wobbled as he scooted himself to the edge. Thankfully he didn't stumble when he hopped down to the table. It was bad enough tumbling over on a hand. He didn't want to seem clumsy on a solid surface too, though the fans of the computer kept up a constant whirring that buzzed under Jacob's feet and a steady warm breeze brushed past him.  
  
He stood up straight and noticed that Dean's hand was almost as thick as he was tall. Perspective struck him once again like a clap on the shoulder, the thought that he was truly too small for the world now. Even Sam didn't have any trouble getting on and off the hand; for Jacob, the task took a lot more work.  
  
He glanced back towards the nightstand. It was so far away, he couldn't see all the details on it, the distance blurring the edges. That was ground it could take him half an hour to cover if he walked, and Dean managed it in a couple of seconds.  
  
He finally noticed that Bowman hadn’t flown over to join them at the table. The sprite finally gave in to the urge to hop into the sunlight, and was flopped over on his front on one of the gargantuan beds. His green wings were spread as far as he could stretch them to maximize on the sunbeam cutting into the room. Jacob smirked.  
  
Instead of going towards the cinema-sized laptop to "save Dean from the research,” Jacob first walked over to his phone. It was closer to the size of a small car at his new scale. Every scratch and nick in the dull plastic casing was so obvious to him now, and he could trace a finger through some of the bigger dents. Jacob would actually have to strain to reach a hand completely across the old LCD screen on the front. Opening the device would be impossible for him. It was one of those moments that was both scary and cool to behold at the same time.  
  
Sam, used to the size of things, didn’t share Jacob’s simple awe at the sight of his phone. He stepped onto the laptop and stared at the open pages in slight dismay. He recognized a lot of the sites they’d examined together before while researching a cure for his own curse. Many of the Google search results were already purple. Another tab was opened to a copy of  _Alice in Wonderland,_  so Dean had been checking all angles. Sam smiled at the illustrations of the  _Eat me_  cakes and the  _Drink me_  potion.   
  
If only it was that easy for them.  
  
While Sam continued the research that Dean had started that morning, the older brother was far more interested in the tinier human on the table. With Jacob recovering from the terrifying night before, Dean watched curiously as he walked around the phone, just as fascinated as Jacob.  
  
He leaned over to help himself hear any of Jacob’s responses, hating the way the small hunter almost had to yell. “Did you want to text anyone?” he asked curiously. One of his hands shifted closer, ready to help. Jacob looked up in surprise, pulled out of whatever occupied his thoughts by Dean's voice and the breeze accompanying his deep tones.  
  
Jacob’s family might not be expecting him to be gone for so long. It was strange to think about the way he had a family at home, waiting for him. Dean had never had anything close to that in his life, just seedy motel rooms and a father that was never around. Having Sam around had given him a sense of family that he’d long thought lost, but it still wasn’t the same as the loving parents that Jacob had.  
  
 _We’ll get you back to normal,_  Dean promised silently, his eyes squinting worriedly.  _There’s always a way._  Just because Sam had to spend over half his life pocket-sized didn’t mean Jacob did. They would make sure his family didn't lose their child the way Dean had lost Sam so many years ago.  
  
Jacob’s gaze dropped absently to the hand that inched closer as he considered his options. Usually, if he went on a hunt with Dean and Sam, he had to come up with a cover story that kept his mom and stepdad from wondering why he was gone for days at a time. Heaven forbid they think he'd taken up gang activity or something-- if they knew the truth, they'd probably faint. Or, his mom would faint and his stepdad would try to track Dean down immediately.  
  
To prevent that, Jacob always had a strategy that they never questioned. "Y-yeah, I guess I probably better tell mom I'm hanging with Chase again," he agreed. His face was sheepish as he realized that sending a simple text was impossible for him at this size. The buttons on his cheap old phone had been tough to press when he was four inches tall. "And let Chase know I need him to cover for me. Again."  
  
Chase was always the better option for a cover story than Bobby, Jacob's other best friend from school. Chase and Jacob had known each other for longer and his family had room to spare in their house. It was a helpful bonus that the Lisongs were always working, so they didn't pay much attention to how often Jacob was or was not there.  
  
Careful to not knock into Jacob, Dean scooped the phone into his grasp. With an easy flick, he opened up the flip phone, revealing the keys and the screen inside. He tilted it towards his friend so Jacob could see what he was doing. The first part was simple enough, scrolling down the contacts list to find “Mom” under the list of names. Once he had a message open, he paused. “Alright, just let me know what you want to send. Can’t have them sending out the search and rescue dogs for you if we keep you out past your bedtime.” Dean gave a tiny smirk, a little of his normal attitude starting to shine through.  
  
That drew a flat look out of the younger hunter and he rolled his eyes. At eighteen, Jacob was supposed to be enjoying a summer after graduation and before figuring out what he should do with his life. In the last 24 hours, college seemed so tiny a concern compared to everything else literally looming over him.   
  
There was something about seeing his own familiar phone on a huge scale, held easily in a hand that was even bigger. Jacob always knew his phone was on the small side, but it was a weird show of perspective to have it look both dwarfed in Dean's grip and big enough that if it closed on him, it would crush him.  
  
"Yeah, I mean, they'll worry I might get  _cranky_  if I don't get enough sleep," he answered flatly, before looking back at the screen and sighing faintly. "Just, uh. Okay, tell her 'vacationing with Lisongs,’ that should be enough." He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, weirded out by the fact that he was asking someone else to do something as simple as send a text for him.  
  
Dean's thumb was bigger than Jacob, and as it navigated the buttons and punched out a simple message, he couldn't help but wonder how much damage that much pressure would do if Jacob got in the way of it. He blinked away the thoughts before they decided to take root in his imagination, which had not been kind to him lately.  
  
"And for Chase ..." Jacob shrugged lamely. "Just tell him 'we're on vacation, cover for me. IOU.’ Should keep him on my side." Hopefully for long enough. Jacob had no idea how long it would take them to find a cure ... or if they'd even find one. If things started to take too long, they'd just have to cross that bridge when they came to it.  
  
Dean obediently tapped out the messages as Jacob talked. Once the second message was in, he hit  **SEND**. “Good thing you’ve got some backup,” he commented as the text went out. “This would be hard to explain to your parents, that’s for sure.” It would be interesting enough to explain to someone in the know with supernatural like John Winchester. Aside from one phone call from the man, Sam hadn’t seen him since shrinking down, a fact that left a burn of resentment in Dean’s chest.   
  
Sam deserved better.  
  
Just like Jacob deserved better. Dean flipped the phone shut, dropping it back on the table a few inches away from the downsized kid. They  _would_  find a way to get him back to normal fast. He’d always been afraid of accidentally hurting Sam, but at least his brother was big enough for teasing and jokes. Jacob was so small Dean feared what would happen with even a light nudge in the side.  
  
With the text taken care of for Jacob, and Sam hard at work on the laptop, Dean sat back. Crossing his arms, he rested his head on them so he’d be able to watch his brother work.  
  
Jacob was glad that Dean didn't seem to notice him flinching from the impact his phone made against the table. It couldn't have fallen more than an inch, but that was most of his current height. The several ounces of plastic outweighed him enough that it striking the table jolted him and the clattering sound rang in his tiny ears.  
  
There was a minor trek to the laptop, probably a little more than a foot of table space between the machine and the smallest hunter in the room. The bulky device looked even clunkier from this perspective. What was normally a simple, easily carried machine might as well be a building to Jacob. He felt the faint vibrations in the table from its fans and hard drive spinning away within it as he walked towards the computer.  
  
The vents in the side sent warm air gusting past him, and Jacob couldn't say he'd complain. He'd take what warmth he could get. When he finally got to the side of the laptop, he tilted his head to watch the screen as Sam worked. It was no less fascinating than watching him jump around the keyboard from above. This time, Jacob got a closer look at the footwork involved, and how nimble Sam really was to maximize the efficiency of each movement. It was no wonder; those keys were  _huge_  and some of them were far apart for a man four inches tall. Sam never let that stop him.  
  
Curious, Jacob put his hands on the white plastic that bordered the base of the mostly matte-silver machine. Using the button on the disk drive as a boost, he hoisted himself up (predicting correctly that his weight wasn't even enough to disturb the button at all). Standing on the laptop, he could feel the disks spinning away more clearly than ever. It was like standing on top of a truck with the engine running.  
  
The screen was almost surreal in its size. Sam was big to Jacob, but even his tall silhouette was dwarfed in front of the laptop's screen. Jacob's eyes traced all the way to the top of the casing, where there were worn knobs of rubber that would cushion the two halves of the folding laptop against each other, and two clasps that would hook into grooves over by the trackpad ... which was bigger than a large bed.  
  
Jacob looked back over at the keys again, noting that he'd never be able to press them, either. They might be well worn (he could see the shiny smooth spots on them worn by constant typing from Dean), but they'd still be far too stiff, just like the buttons on his phone. Jacob would be useless with the research here. He hesitated, then sat down on a plain of silvery plastic as he watched search results appear on the screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Jacob's mom had any idea what her son was up to...
> 
> **Next:** December 3 rd 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love


	22. Research

After a few minutes of typing diligently away and loading up various pages, Sam realized he could feel eyes on him with more focus than before. A slight flush rose to his face, and he didn’t turn around at first, continuing to work despite the fact that he knew both of the other humans were watching him.  
  
It was odd. Ever since meeting Jacob and finding Dean again, he was coming to realize more and more when someone had eyes on him. It was a useful ability he’d used on occasion, though he’d never told Dean how he managed it. His brother just assumed he could hear people coming better with his instincts honed from years of keeping out of sight. He could, but it was more than that. It was a physical weight that crawled up his back  _only_  if a human had eyes on him.  
  
He used the arrow key to scroll down on his current page, putting off the time until he turned around to give his bright red blushing a chance to die down. Once he was sure it would be safe, he turned and paused.  
  
The difference between Dean and Jacob couldn’t be more obvious. Dean almost took up Sam’s entire line of sight resting his head on his arms a few inches away from the laptop to watch Sam work. Jacob, on the other hand, was a small figure sitting on the thick plastic of the older Dell Inspiron, a few inches away from the trackpad. He wasn’t  _supposed_  to be so small. He was supposed to be bigger even than Dean, and it was unsettling. Sam would much rather have both his humans looming overhead as they were meant to.  
  
“Any luck, Sammy?” Dean rumbled curiously.  
  
Sam shook his head and grimaced. “I found a site that has a professed ‘Growth Potion,’ but considering,” he stepped on the trackpad to click on the tab. A bright pink page sprang up on the screen, all glitter and fairies, “ _this,_  I think we can rule it out.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I dunno. The sites online never seem to be reliable. I think we might want to consider finding some actual books at the library. Maybe drop a line to Bobby and see if he can find anything for us too.”  
  
Jacob squinted and actually averted his eyes from the garish pink webpage before it could blind him. He snickered at how the page looked with its ads all over and the poorly animated gifs of fairies adorning the border. It'd almost be funny to tell Bowman that that's what people thought fairies looked like. Bowman could go on for hours griping about it.  
  
"Actual books sound like the right track," he agreed, though the thought of the library gave him pause. They'd be going out into a world beyond oversized for him, and the last time that had happened, Jacob almost paid for the beer with himself. Who knew what would have happened if the cashier had found him?  
  
Then again, Sam did this all the time. He ventured out in a world full of dangers that were oblivious to him at best and actively trying to kill him at worst. Sam would be looking out for Jacob as he stumbled around being absolutely terrible at being small. Knowing that book research had served them best in the past, Jacob nodded. "Might as well give the library a try."  
  
“Calling Bobby sounds like a good idea, too,” Dean agreed with them. He pushed himself back up. “Or we can at least message him.”  
  
Sam stepped up next to Jacob. “Could you grab me a jacket?” he called up to his older brother. It would just waste time they needed for him to go grab one himself, and he wanted to stick as close to Jacob as he could.  
  
Dean nodded distractedly, already going over in his mind what they’d need. He snagged one of Sam’s tan jackets out of the little cloth bag of belongings, and took a second to dig the tiny, hand crafted knife out of the dirty jacket with careful, adept fingers. He handed both down to Sam while he went to get the rest of his stuff ready.   
  
Sam sat down next to Jacob, tugging on his jacket while they waited for Dean to get ready. The knife found its home as well, tucked in an inside pocket his mother, Mallory, had designed exactly for that reason. There was even a rubber sheath designed for the tip of the blade so that the knife wouldn’t cut Sam or his clothing.  
  
It was only a few more minutes of waiting. Dean carefully cleared out anything in his outside jacket pockets. There was no way he’d let anything happen to Jacob in them two days in a row. Aside from a stray penny that had escaped his grasp the first time, and a bit of pocket lint, there was nothing to be found. He tucked away his own knife, the larger twin of Sam’s, in the inner pockets, and his trusty Colt MK IV was slipped in the back of his pants, professionally concealed by his jacket. The last thing they needed was for someone to call the cops on him for carrying a weapon around.  
  
He grinned widely when he spotted Bowman laying in the sun with an expression of contentment, eyes shut and tuned out to the world. He must have missed the conversation at the table. Going over to the bed, Dean dangled a clean handkerchief over the sprite. “Rise and shine, small fry,” he snickered as he let the light cloth drop, draping over the sprite and his wings.  
  
Bowman flinched, jolting him out of his luxuriant snooze. Sunlight, while technically providing energy for a wood sprite, also had a tendency to be very relaxing. Combine that with the fact that Bowman was lying on a gigantic bed, and it wasn't so strange that he'd dozed off there.  
  
Only to be greeted by a lot of red and something settling over his body and wings. Bowman pushed himself upright in surprise, reflexively drawing his wings close. He pushed at the red material, recognizing it as thick cloth and plenty of it. As Dean's words finally filtered into the confused sprite's mind, he scowled and began his search for the edge of the expanse of fabric.   
  
"Blast it, Dean, Pray to a rock!" he groused loudly, fumbling a little thanks to the plush surface beneath him.  
  
He fluttered his wings irritably, but it didn't help him escape the cloth any faster. When he finally threw the handkerchief off of himself and glared up at Dean, his wings were twitching with annoyance. "What was that for?!" he demanded, ignoring Sam and Jacob; it could only be assumed that they were laughing at him over on the table, but his focus was on the one standing over him with that grin on his face.  
  
Dean snickered as he scooped the handkerchief back off the bed and tucked it away. “It looked like you needed a bit of help waking back up. I figured I’d do you a favor.” He winked at the disgruntled sprite on the bed. “We’re heading out to the library. You might want to get yourself together otherwise you’ll be snoozing in a pocket for the ride.”  
  
He came back over to the table and held a hand out next to the laptop, making it an easy step onto his hand for Jacob. “There’s nothing in my pockets this time, I made sure.” His eyes sought out Jacob’s hard-to-see expression. “I’m not making the same mistake twice.”  
  
Sam grinned his own reassurance. “And I’ll be in there this time. I think that’ll help make the ride a lot easier on everyone. If Jacob needs to tell you anything, I’ll be there to give you a good kick in the side.”  
  
Jacob nodded. He hadn’t missed Dean’s careful effort to clear his pockets. Considering how battered just a handful of coins had left him, his first experience with pockets didn't come with pleasant memories. "Well hey, it sounds like we have a good working plan here," he quipped, standing.  
  
It was a lot easier to approach the enormous hand when it wasn't hanging over a drop that'd make daredevils dizzy. It was still unsettling that Jacob was outsized by someone's palm so completely, but at least it was Dean's hand he was walking onto. The guy had experience handling smaller people, and now he was even more vigilant. Despite Dean's looming size, Jacob went ahead and stepped onto the offered fingers once more.  
  
"Sh- God dammit," he hissed when he stumbled again. This time he caught himself on his hands and knees just as he landed near Dean’s palm. "This is ... still pretty weird," he excused himself, once again red in the ears from falling over like an assclown in front of everyone.  
  
He heard powerful wings flapping and looked up to see Bowman hovering near Dean's shoulder level, and knew the sprite had seen his tumble, too. The view gave him another reminder of just how titanic Dean really was.  
  
 _You fought with this guy. You trust him with your life,_  he reminded himself as he sat upright in the hand, a ready excuse to look down so he didn't get vertigo.  
  
“You’re doing pretty good,” Sam reassured his friend as he walked onto the hand. “It took me some time to get used to being held, so it’s not just you.” He settled next to Jacob, putting a hand on the small hunter’s shoulder as they lifted from the table and moved directly towards the pocket. “It isn’t easy to get used to someone being able to  _literally_  hold your life in their hands.”  
  
The fingers curled up around them as Dean put his entire hand in the pocket this time, knuckles brushing against the fabric bottom. Sam pushed a finger out of his way and Dean stretched them out, making it easy to slip down and drop to the bottom of the dark surroundings.  
  
Once he was down, he stood and offered Jacob a hand getting down. Before Jacob could reach him, the hand started to lift away out of the pocket, Dean assuming that they were both clear of his hand. Sam didn't need any more proof of the fact that Dean couldn’t feel Jacob on his hand  _at all,_  a concerning thought for them all.  
  
“Dean,  _wait!_  " Sam shouted. He leapt forward, snagging a fingertip before it could raise up out of his reach.  
  
Luckily, Dean froze. “Shit, you guys alright?” his voice thundered overhead. "Did something happen?"  
  
Sam tugged the finger down in annoyance. It came easily enough, Dean letting him take control. “You gotta give Jacob a second, asshat!” he snapped. He held his other hand out for the shaken hunter stranded on the fingers.  
  
The vertiginous feeling of being lowered and lifted and then lowered again left Jacob's stomach very confused about where it should settle. He wondered if this was how a slinky felt, being bounced so easily in a hand. He quickly scooted forward and took Sam's offered hand, slipping off the end of Dean's fingers.  
  
He was almost embarrassed that he hadn't managed to move quickly enough the first time. He just couldn't help but move cautiously, especially around fingers big enough to completely smush him if he got caught between them by accident.  
  
"S-sorry," he muttered. It seemed that every time something exceedingly simple came along, like getting into a pocket, he managed to find some difficulty with it that none of them foresaw.  _Even just talking to Dean is hard. If my voice was louder I wouldn't have been stuck in the beer..._  he thought morosely, discouragement leaking into his posture. At this rate, he'd be dead within the week. Fate would get tired of handing him free passes and claim him for his latest dumbass mistake.  
  
“Look, don’t worry about it. You’re still getting used to things,” Sam said as he gave Dean’s fingers a good  _whack_  with his hand. The index finger gave him a slight nudge in return as the hand lifted out.  
  
Having never been in a pocket without a floor of money before, the sensation was completely new to Jacob. It was kind of like standing in an oversized hammock, though he quickly had to sit himself down before he fell over. It sagged down beneath Sam’s greater weight, threatening to toss him off balance as the four inch hunter moved. The seams underneath, a detail he'd normally miss, felt so obvious to him at this size. Maybe he was imagining it, but Jacob could almost swear he smelled the faint scent of metal from the coins that had been in the pocket the day before.  
  
Instead of sitting in the opposite corner like he’d normally do, Sam sat right next to Jacob. “Y’know, none of this is your fault,” Sam told him. The pocket swung into motion around them as Dean started to move. “Everyone’s getting used to having such a drastic change, you most of all. We might joke around, but all you have to do is ask and anyone’s ready to help out. Even with something that might seem silly and stupid, like getting onto a laptop. You help me out all the time,” Sam reminded him. “Dean has his hands full a lot, and you still let me hang out on your shoulder instead of being stuck in a pocket all day. Trust me, I appreciate it. Pockets can be comfortable for a bit, but imagine being in here for half the day when Dean’s interviewing victims.”  
  
A door slammed outside, signaling Dean exiting the motel room. The swaying stride continued until the sound of a key in the door of the Impala came through not far from where they were sitting.  
  
"Yeah," Jacob agreed, mostly to acknowledge that he'd heard. He probably wouldn't stop feeling silly or stupid about some of the things he had trouble with, even though he couldn't help it. There was no way anyone could have foreseen this. Sam had never been this size, and when Bowman was this size he was living in a society built to accommodate it. Jacob was completely out of his element. He'd gone from the one who could carry everything to the one who needed to be carried everywhere.  
  
Dean's walking soon took up all of Jacob's attention. He nearly tumbled over in the pocket like he did the first time, but one hand managed to latch onto Sam's sleeve, since it was right there. The other arm curled around his legs, which he'd drawn carefully to his aching chest. A few jostling steps forced surprised huffs out of his mouth, brief upswings of pain as the pocket swayed back and forth with each step. The light from above constantly shifted, making the whole thing seem like a bizarre theme park ride. Even as Dean finally sat down in the Impala, Jacob's hand couldn't seem to figure out how to let go of Sam's sleeve.  
  
After the Impala's rumbling growl came to life and made Jacob flinch involuntarily, he found the words to continue. "I just mostly feel like a little kid again, is all. I don't know how to climb and I obviously can't fly. I may be the right size for it but I don't actually know much about being sneaky." He finally managed to let go of the sleeve, wrapping both arms around his knees.   
  
"I'm not used to having to rely on people so much. I've been taller than the majority of the people I meet since I was fourteen," he confessed.  
  
“Hmm,” Sam hummed in response as the car started to move. He tried to think of any pointers he could give his friend. “Being sneaky isn’t as hard as it seems if you’re our size,” he confided. “You and Dean think I’m the best at sneaking around, but honestly, a lot of it comes from the fact that I’m too small to be heard a lot of the time. With other humans, you might hear them shift in place or breathe if they’re hiding in the room. I don’t have to worry about that.  
  
“The other part, the  _important_  part, is if anyone you don’t know is around, you  _freeze._  The second you move, their eyes might be drawn right to you the way you’ll spot a spider on the wall and  _that’s_  when you have to worry.”  
  
Sam took on a thoughtful look. “I can feel when I’m being watched,” he admitted for the first time in his life. “I never mentioned it to Dean, but if he or any other human looks over at me, I can tell - even when I can’t see them in return. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been this size most of my life or what, but it’s there, and I’ve learned to use it when I can.”  
  
Jacob looked up at Sam in surprise, wondering if that action by itself was included. It sounded pretty cool, regardless of where it came from. If it was conditioned into Sam from being small for so long, Jacob wondered if  _he'd_  start to feel it too. He shuddered briefly. He didn't want to think about being an inch and a half tall for fourteen years. He had to believe there was some way to get back to his normal height or he'd discourage himself.  
  
"That  _is_  really useful," Jacob agreed. "And ... so is the advice. I think I'm gonna need all I can get in that department." He allowed himself a laugh, letting his cloudy mood clear. There was little point in beating himself up too much about being bad at navigating a world this outsized. Anyone would freak out or stumble (a lot).  
  
Another thought suddenly struck him as the car carried them closer to the local library. "Damn," he muttered. "I'm not gonna be as much help with research." He wasn't  _that_  much help normally, and he knew it. Jacob hadn't had the experience picking out useful information from the old books like Dean or even Sam, who seemed to take to the research part of hunting like a natural. "Guess me an' Bowman will be the moral support in this one."  
  
Sam waved off his worry. "That’s not a problem. Maybe you can even keep Bowman distracted so he doesn't distract  _Dean_. I swear if you leave those two alone for a minute they'll find something to argue about, or start poking each other just for the fun of it. In fact, I'm surprised we haven't heard from them yet." Sam peered up at the top of the pocket. They might not be close enough to hear from Bowman, but there was no missing any of Dean's words with the sheer volume of his voice.  
  
Sam let himself slump down at the bottom on the pocket with his legs slightly above him. "I like the research, anyway. Ever since getting back with Dean I've gotten all these chances to read and catch up on things, chances that I never had before. For thirteen years I couldn't just go out and grab a book, so now that I can, I'm not gonna waste the chance. I don't even mind being called 'poindexter' all the time." He rolled his eyes with a dramatic grin for Jacob. "I think I've earned the most nicknames out of anyone so far."  
  
Jacob laughed at that and had to shrug in agreement. "One advantage of hanging around so much. Brother privileges, I guess," he mused. Dean was fond of attaching nicknames to people.  
  
Jacob had earned "Sasquatch" pretty early on, losing it to Sam when they all discovered that, if he hadn't been shrunk when he was a kid, Sam would be taller than even Dean. Bowman had become "Small Fry" almost immediately, much to his eternal annoyance. Then again, everything seemed to contribute to Bowman's eternal annoyance.  
  
The way Sam reclined in the pocket put him close to Jacob's eye level. He was so casual about it, accustomed to all the motions and sensations that came with being in someone's pocket. After a year back with Dean, Sam had acquired a certain expertise traveling in pockets or on a shoulder. Not to mention the number of times he'd wound up saving Jacob or Dean's asses in a hunt one way or another. He'd really blown past his size. If that wasn't encouraging, Jacob wasn't sure what would be.  
  
"I probably will have to keep Bowman a little distracted," Jacob realized. "He won't have any idea what's going on in a library." Bowman had a hard enough time believing how many right angles humans incorporated into their spaces. The library was going to be absolutely full of those, as well as other people and shelves full of books that contained blocky text that Bowman had trouble reading. Bowman was going to be nervous in there.  
  
The sprite in question was in his chosen spot on the dashboard as usual, wings settled on the surface all around to soak up the sunlight. He was facing forward with his hands planted on the dash in front of him and his legs stretched out, avidly watching the human settlement pass by. Every building was arranged in an orderly line, with orderly windows and avenues for walking beside the very orderly, straight doors. Bowman hadn't had a chance to really observe the human dwellings the last time he left the forest. For one trip he'd been trapped and fearful in Jacob's hands, and for the other he'd been both nervous and excited to be going back home, after thinking he'd be eaten or held captive by giants for the rest of his life.  
  
The Impala came to a rolling halt near a tall red sign that Bowman vaguely recognized said  **STOP**  in broad white letters. He rocked back slightly when the car started forward again and then looked over his shoulder at Dean, who had his hands on the circle that turned the enormous car-beast somehow. "What  _is_  a library?" he finally asked, his burning curiosity trumping his desire not to seem ignorant to the humans.  
  
Dean's gaze flashed to Bowman for a second before it was back on the road. "I think it's the closest thing we've got to your archives," he replied. On the smartphone he had, the GPS was up with directions to the local library. He'd pulled up the information as he'd left the room, and managed to send a text to Bobby explaining their odd situation.  
  
If anyone could find information on what had happened to Jacob, it would be Bobby Singer. He had a huge library of ancient tomes that they'd never seen an equal to, and years more experience in the hunting life than even John Winchester. The dire nature of Jacob's situation had sunk in immediately to the older hunter. Unlike Sam, Jacob couldn't even communicate most of the time, and he wasn't adjusted to the dangers like this. If they couldn't find a cure, he'd be in danger at all times, and his best bet at living to Dean's age would be living with Bowman's family and never leaving the house. While Dean was certain the sprites would welcome him, it wouldn't be right, and it wasn't the life Jacob was meant for.  
  
For now, with Jacob safely in his pocket with Sam - Dean's face still burned in embarrassment that he'd almost taken Jacob on another unintentional ride - he continued to keep his voice down and the radio on low. "The library is where a lot of older books are kept. It's useful for when we need information and a lot more reliable than the internet. The only downfall is there's a chance, a good one, that we won't find the book we need there, which is why I sent a message to our friend Bobby. He has a library of his own he's checking right now."  
  
Bowman nodded and looked ahead again, musing over the new information. He was glad that they had a backup option in case this trek to the library didn't yield any results, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that. He was more than a little impatient to get Jacob back to normal. "Hopefully this archive has what you need," he mused, even saying a little Prayer inwardly for luck.  
  
He was curious but didn't want to ask if the friend of theirs-- Bobby-- knew about the sprites. It was likely enough, considering he seemed to be a keeper of information for the hunters. They had probably mentioned Wellwood to him. At least it meant one more human knew the sprites were no threat to any humans. The village could remain a safe haven. For anyone who decided to live there.   
  
Even Jacob, if the human archives had nothing for them.  
  
It  _wouldn't_  come to that. Bowman flicked his wings in annoyance at himself for even considering it.  
  
The Impala approached a large human building with what Bowman recognized as a book painted on the sign. As Dean navigated into a place to keep the car while they were there, Bowman stood on the dashboard and inched closer to the glass, observing the building. It was big, and some of the windows on the front were actually taller than Dean! Expansive panes of glass collected a glare on them, merely reflecting tidily-manicured shrubs and small trees rather than revealing the people and structures within.   
  
Somewhere in there, just maybe, lay their answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One small hiccup, and they are on their way!
> 
> **Next:** December 6 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	23. A Snap and a Freeze

With Sam and Jacob stowed away in one pocket, and Bowman kicking pointedly at him in the other, Dean climbed out of the Impala. No one would be able to tell from his casual swagger that not only did he have three miniature passengers hidden on his person, he also carried a small arsenal.   
  
The first thing he'd learned in the hunting life was to be prepared for anything, and he'd taken that to heart.  
  
Keeping that in mind, Dean hovered a hand over the pocket with Sam in it. He could feel exactly where his brother's small weight was resting, small feet kicked up like he was sitting in a hammock. With short, restrained motions that would look like he was impatiently twitching his hand, Dean carefully tapped out a message on the outside of the pocket, keeping away from the bottom where Jacob, too fragile for even this, would be sitting.  
  
 _Safe?_  
  
The message was easily interpreted by Sam, who'd become an expert in Morse Code. He'd know that Dean was asking if Jacob was okay in there. It wasn't long before he felt Sam shift slightly, punching out a message of his own against Dean's side.  
  
 _J Safe. Jerk._  
  
Dean couldn't hide a smile as he entered the library, dropping his hand away from the pocket. He nodded to the woman sitting at the front desk, giving her a charming smile. He had to stop for a second to let a mother pass by, pulling her child by the hand. A set of crayons and a coloring book were clutched in his hands as he gave the tall hunter a wide-eyed look of amazement.  
  
After prowling around, Dean was able to locate several books that they could use to start their research. He had books on curses and poison mushrooms and a few older legends about tricks played by the fae. There was an abandoned table in the back of the library where he chose to set up shop, laying out the books and doing his best to cover the entire table. He didn't need anyone else wandering over and sitting nearby. If the table wasn't a good enough deterrent, usually an angry scowl would do the job for him.  
  
With all that ready, he scooped Bowman out of his pocket first, and then lowered his hand into the other pocket, waiting for a signal from Sam to pull it out.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob was fascinated, hardly believing he had a chance to see Sam and Dean's Morse code system in action from an angle he'd never expected: Sam's side of things. At first, he wondered if the tapping on the side of the pocket (which had prompted Jacob to thread his fingers into the weave around him to keep steady) was an accident or a nervous twitch from Dean. It wouldn’t be completely unexpected, since a twitch like that would be something Dean didn’t consciously think about.  
  
Sam had recognized the rhythm in it faster than Jacob and begun actually  _punching_  a reply into Dean's side. Jacob hadn't really begun to learn the code yet, but seeing how useful it was to Sam to keep in contact, he decided he really should.  
  
He had time to muse over the thought while Dean searched for books. Jacob  _had_  to think ahead, if only to give himself  _something_  to be optimistic about. He would get through this, and then he’d learn Morse Code so he could converse with Sam with it if he needed to.  
  
The arrival at a table came all too soon. With Sam's help, Jacob clambered back onto the waiting hand, astounded that Dean couldn't feel his weight at all. He might just barely be able to notice if Jacob pushed really hard and Dean focused on nothing else, but otherwise Jacob might as well not be there. He huddled up when Sam settled and gave Dean's hand a few taps to signal they were ready.  
  
 _Go._  
  
Jacob put a hand in front of his eyes in surprise when they were lifted into the bright lighting. The sight that greeted him was familiar, but so alien. The secluded table was a vast plain of wood worn smooth from years of use. Stacks of books scattered haphazardly over the surface, strategically ensuring that Dean had a claim over the entire table. Some of those books were thicker than Jacob, and might as well be buildings for all the good he'd do with them.  
  
Tall shelves beyond the table and all around stretched high overhead, reaching for the ceiling and blockading the four of them into their hidden nook of the library. The one pathway in and out was narrow and easy to see, making it simple for Dean to keep a lookout while doing his reading. Natural light from one of the tall windows in the front of the building broke past the shelves to the side, creating blocky bars of gold light that illuminated the dust motes floating in the air. If the world didn't yawn before him so much, Jacob would consider the space cozy.  
  
When Sam and Jacob's living platform lowered to the surface of the table, Jacob climbed down with slightly more grace than he'd managed last time. Bowman was crouched low beside the tallest stack of books he could find, keeping close to it while his keen eyes darted this way and that to take in their surroundings. His wings were folded as tightly to his back as he could manage, and Jacob recognized the sprite's desire to protect those all-important wings while he adjusted to a foreign environment. Bowman's generally green appearance stood out in the library.  
  
"Well, hey, Dean, it looks like you're ready for some light summer reading," Jacob quipped while he appraised one of the thicker books, feeling strange that even in a library he had to speak up to have any hope of being heard. The landscape of books was almost cool from this angle, creating a labyrinth of immovable blocks that might as well stretch on forever.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, opening up one of the books for Sam to peruse. Jacob backed away cautiously, keeping himself out of the way. "At least I won't have a pop quiz to worry about when I'm done."  
  
Sam stepped up on the pages, staring down at the words that stretched out under his boots. With each letter the height of his fingers, it would take him longer to read through the books than Dean, but he'd never dream about being left out of this part of the job. Even as a kid his father would have Sam do research for them on occasion. Sam had never known  _why_  he was doing it, led to believe it was just for side projects while their dad moved from state to state as a 'salesman.' Until confronting Dean about their dad's job and reading the journal, he'd had no idea the supernatural even existed, and no idea what had killed their mother all those years ago.  
  
Without Dean, he would have been cursed without ever knowing why.  
  
As Sam settled in to read his book, Dean gave another scan around the room before grabbing his own, one on poison mushrooms. His eyes strayed to Jacob even as he opened it. "Hey, man," Dean said. "Sorry about, y'know, the pocket earlier."  
  
Seeing the clear remorse in Dean's eyes, Jacob shrugged nonchalantly. "Hey, not much happened there, really," he waved off the concern. Though the bouncing up and down on Dean's hand had been exaggerated for Jacob, he didn't see any good in saying so. "I already forgot about it."  
  
With that reassurance given, Jacob continued his walk away from wide, turning pages and settled down next to Bowman. He looked up and offered the sprite a bemused smile, getting a nervous one in return. "Though I think maybe Bowman here would rather hide in your pocket the whole time," Jacob teased with a grin.  
  
Bowman turned a scathing look down at the human sitting by his side, the size of an oddly-proportioned nestling without wings. "I would not!" he protested, though not as loudly as he might normally do so. He turned his narrowed eyes up to Dean, as if warning the human against scooping him into a pocket once more.  
  
"Aw, and miss out on all this library fun?" Dean joined in the teasing. He lightly nudged Bowman in the side with a smirk. "I didn't know you liked the pockets so much! I'll remember that the next time we come visiting to the library."  
  
Bowman swiped a hand at Dean's intruding nudge, but the hand was already out of his range. He wasn't about to stand up and flare his wings or gripe loudly here. There was too much of a risk of being seen or heard without his usual camouflage, so he merely gave the human a glare for his trouble.  
  
Dean didn't pay the glare any attention and started to flip through the book on poison mushrooms, searching for one that had the same appearance as what Jacob had eaten the day before. Of course, he knew Jacob wouldn't have picked it if he wasn't familiar with the mushroom, but Dean wanted to cover all their bases just in case. The book Sam was going through was more likely to yield results, with the ancient fae fond of pranks and jokes. Bringing the tallest human to the smallest size would fall right into that category.  
  
Sam's reading was far more of an adventure. Turning the pages was a workout, pushing the massive pages up over his head. Considering the book was the size of a chemistry textbook, Sam was dwarfed by it. The cover was heavy enough to stay open for him with no threat of snapping shut and trapping him between the pages. It might not crush him completely, but there was always a chance of broken bones.  
  
While the others worked, Jacob relaxed against the stacked books that Bowman had picked. One of them looked similar to the one Sam was working hard to read. The other's binding was so faded that Jacob had no idea what it might contain, but if Dean had picked it out for research he'd find out eventually.  
  
Research wasn't usually the most riveting part of a hunt anyway, but being unable to contribute at  _all_  made it pass slowly. There was only so much fascination to be had over the towering shelves, six and seven levels high and absolutely packed with books, old and new.  
  
At least, with Bowman sitting next to him and looking around with far more interest (and sometimes trepidation), Jacob had something to focus on. He could practically see those bright green eyes above him tracing the many right angles of the shelves, and the wings tucked against the book spines quivered sometimes.  
  
Bowman may have easily volunteered to leave the forest to help Jacob in any way he could, but that didn't mean he wasn't nervous about it. He may seem like he was seventeen feet tall to Jacob, but he was still small compared to everything else. To someone who was used to having predators potentially lurking around any corner, the boxed in area would seem extra intimidating. There were a  _lot_  of corners. Every stack of books on every shelf could conceal something dangerous. Bowman had confided in Jacob before that the sprites' status as a prey species forced them to assume that something could be lying in wait to eat them (a sentiment that Jacob now understood uncomfortably well).  
  
With that in mind, Jacob decided to take it upon himself to distract the poor sprite. "Well, are you having a miserable time?" Jacob teased, though he was genuinely concerned for his friend. Bowman sent him a roll of the eyes.  
  
"Oh, please, this is ... this is nothing," Bowman snipped. "I'm not trapped under glass, at least."  
  
Jacob winced sheepishly, knowing exactly what Bowman was referring to. Dean may have suggested it, but Jacob was technically the one that had placed Bowman under a vase when they first found him, trapping the sprite in the middle of a table. It had left him exposed to the gazes of two giant humans who seemed to think he was causing trouble. "That's, uh. True, I guess," he muttered in reply.  
  
Bowman snickered and ruffled Jacob's hair again, looking thoroughly amused that he could. "You're not as scary lately," he teased. "Something's different."  
  
"Damn, I must be losing my edge," Jacob quipped back, shoving the sprite's hand away with a grin.  
  
Bowman opened his mouth to send a retort right back, but a noise beyond one of the rows of shelves hedging them in caught his attention and he whipped his gaze around. Jacob chuckled. From the sounds of things, it was just a large printer starting up and spitting out pages in a rhythmic pattern of paper brushing against paper.  
  
"What is that?" Bowman asked curiously, practically demanding an answer to the source of more "human magic." Jacob got to his feet and stepped around him, heading towards the edge of the books they rested against.  
  
"It sounds like a copier or a printer," Jacob answered. He lightly placed a hand on the corner of the books and leaned around them to try and see where the bulky device was sitting. There were too many shelves in the way. Anticipating that Bowman was giving him a questioning look for that one and wanting more information, Jacob turned his head back towards the curious sprite.  
  
Before he could even open his mouth to answer, a sound echoed in Jacob's head.  _Did Dean just snap his fingers?_  barely crossed his mind before suddenly everything on the table was gone.  
  
Or rather, the books, Bowman, and Sam were gone. And ... the shelves all around them. Jacob gathered his bearings and realized with a plummeting heart that he was somehow on a different table in the library, far from any corners. Dean's hulking shadow was nowhere in sight. The sound of that stupid copier was still going, but much farther away than before.  
  
His attention was quickly drawn to the fact that this table, while not laden with an eclectic maze of books about mushrooms and fairies and curses, was still occupied. A woman sat with a book in one hand and a pen in the other, the cap idly resting against her lips as her eyes skimmed back and forth on the page. A legal pad with hastily-scrawled letters half Jacob's length sat on the table in front of her. In the adjacent seat and much closer to Jacob sat a little boy, no older than seven. He was working intently in a coloring book, putting his poor stubby red crayon to good use clumsily filling in the lines on a fire truck.  
  
 _If anyone you don't know is around, you freeze,_  filtered into Jacob's mind, Sam's advice from the pocket practically slamming into him now. Jacob froze, his muscles tense and his hands clenching into nervous fists.  
  
While the strategy worked for the most part, drawing no attention to himself, it couldn't last. Jacob had nothing to duck behind and eventually the kid decided he was ready for a different crayon. He set the red one aside and began to reach for a blue one, before his hand paused mid reach. Jacob tore his gaze from it to flicker his eyes to the kid's face and knew he'd been spotted.  
  
A curious gaze shifted into awe and the crayons were forgotten. The hand moved again, approaching Jacob with the kind of cautious desire kids saved for found toys. To this kid, Jacob might as well be exactly that.  
  
He shivered, his eyes widening in panic. He hadn't managed to ask Sam what he was supposed to do if someone was actually reaching for him. Should he try to run? Should he continue to pretend he was just a toy and hope the kid might get bored? What if the boy squeezed him too hard or shoved him in a pocket or-  
  
Those panicked thoughts were drowned out in a buzz of fear as a pudgy, unfamiliar fist encased his entire body. Jacob clenched his jaw and could just barely resist the urge to thrash around in the slightly sweaty enclosure that smelled strongly of crayon wax. His feet left the ground and he was carried closer until the hand opened again, leaving Jacob lying flat on the boy's palm. The other hand approached and poked at him, curiously (but thankfully gently) trying to manipulate his limbs. Jacob gritted his teeth and hoped his quiet noises of pain as his bruised ribs were brushed didn't reach the kid's ears.  
  
 _Fuck, I'm in trouble._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought we forgot this was a horror story, didn't ya?
> 
> If anyone wants to chat about the stories, BA has a [discord chat](https://discordapp.com/invite/sjkqB9A)! Come join us!
> 
> **Next:** December 10 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	24. Lost and Found

Bowman blinked. He was going to point out to Jacob that he had no blasted clue what a copier or a printer might be, but then the small human was  _gone._  One second he was standing next to the corner of the books, looking back towards the sprite.   
  
And the next, he vanished.  
  
Like he'd never been there in the first place.  
  
"Jacob?!" Bowman asked, shooting to his feet and stumbling in his haste. He dashed to the edge of the books and peered around them in confusion, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks.   
  
Jacob wasn't hiding behind the books.   
  
With a fluttering hop, Bowman was atop the stack of books, his previous concern about being seen completely forgotten while panic wrapped around him like a spiderweb. His vivid green eyes narrowed as he peered around the arrangement of books, hoping to see Jacob sneaking among them so he could bring him back and maybe give him a light bop on the head for scaring him like that.  
  
But Jacob was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Bowman whirled around to face Dean and Sam, panic clear on his face and his wings already fanned partially open. "He was just there-- he's just gone! Into nowhere!" he sputtered. He waved an arm vaguely towards where he last saw Jacob, but of course nothing was there. His wings became restless, and he was desperate to find the small human.  
  
Dean froze, panic rising up to match Bowman’s. His eyes greedily scanned the tabletop searching for any sight of his downsized protege. " _Fuck,_ " he growled out as there was no sign of him, nothing at all. It was like he'd never been there. Dean rubbed his face to focus his worried thoughts. "Son of a  _bitch!_  " he snapped angrily, enunciating each individual syllable of the phrase.  
  
Jacob was gone. And no one knew to where.  
  
Dean stood abruptly, glancing around their small nook. There was nobody close by, not even any innocent browsers reading through the books in the aisles that surrounded their nook. Jacob wouldn't have gone far from them and there was no  _way_  he'd ever attempt scaling the table. He might be young, but he was smart and fast on the uptake. He wouldn't take a stupid risk like that out in public.  _Especially_  after everything he’d already been through.  
  
Sam ran over to his brother and the sprite, abandoning his research to join them. "We need to find him," he said for all of them. "There's no time to waste if he's in the library, around..."  
  
He didn't have to say it. They all knew.  
  
Around other humans.  
  
At an inch and a half tall, Jacob might seem like a cute teddy bear to Sam and Bowman and he might seem like an extra small friend for Dean to protect, but other humans wouldn't see him the same way. He was the size of a toy, something to be easily played with by children. He was the size of a bug, something to swat out of the way.  
  
Easily crushed.  
  
If that happened, they wouldn't even be able to recognize his pulverized remains.  
  
Dean's heart was in his throat. Jacob was so fragile that his ribs had been bruised with a simple, mindless action by  _Dean._  Reflex was enough to nearly squash those tiny bones. If someone deliberately tried to swat him, or if a kid thought he was a toy and bent his limbs just a  _little_  bit the wrong way...  
  
Dean couldn't afford to let panic cloud his thoughts, not when Jacob's life hung in the balance. "Alright, this is what we're gonna do. Sam'll have to stick with me, there's no way he can be out in the open in here, he has no way to escape if he's seen. Bowman, if you can stay near the ceiling, by the rafters, you can be a lookout up above. Try and spot him if he's hiding anywhere... just don't get spotted yourself. We'll be searching down here, trying to find him ourselves. Got it?" His murky green eyes sought out Bowman's far more vivid ones.  
  
Behind the determination in those bright green eyes, Dean saw trepidation. Bowman did his best to hide it, but Dean knew better. "I know what I'm asking. I wouldn't ask you to do this if Jacob's life wasn't in danger."  
  
Bowman straightened his back and nodded, curling his shaking hands into fists. He might be nervous and out of his element around this enormous box full of humans, but at least he could fly. He could do something to help Jacob, who had no way of defending himself. Jacob didn't even have a knife of his own like Sam did if a human decided to grab him.  
  
With his task set, Bowman pivoted, barely making a half-turn before his strong wings powered downward and sent him hurtling upwards, all in one fluid motion. If there was ever a time to put his title as Wellwood's fastest flyer to use, this was it.  
  
His wings barely whispered as he alighted on top of the first barricade of shelves guarding their chosen corner from sight of the rest of the humans, jogging to a stop to survey his surroundings.  
  
A wood sprite’s eyes were nowhere near as good as a hawks, but Bowman's bright green eyes were keen as they scanned the next section of the enormous, boxy archive. The many unfamiliar things he could see from his high perch threatened to overwhelm his vision.  
  
He crouched low to avoid being seen, his every nerve on edge at the thought of a massive, unknown human looking up and catching sight of him. He trusted Dean, and he trusted Jacob, but no other giant had earned that trust so far.  
  
There was a blocky machine thicker than the big oak tree back home, making the annoying whirring noise that had gotten Jacob standing in the first place. Nearby, humans sat staring at the bright flat fronts of 'computers,’ recognizable only by the arrays of buttons the humans kept in front of them. A wide counter near the door stretched almost all the way around a human woman who was moving large books from one side of the counter to the other, occasionally poking at her own computer while she worked in an almost rhythmic pattern. What this ritual was for was beyond Bowman's ability to guess.  
  
Bowman squinted. He darted to the edge of the shelf with his wings open and glided effortlessly to a closer one, his heart pounding and his breath heaving as he actually passed over some open space to do so. He was so exposed without his comforting green canopy.  
  
The silent glide did its job well. Not one human looked up or yelped in alarm. Bowman inched up to the edge of the shelf and looked over the counter again. It was cluttered with sheets of gleaming white paper with black text stamped on, as well as a number of books stacked high. Bowman's eyes zeroed in on what he thought might be Jacob standing near the computer.  
  
His heart leapt to his throat for a moment, his wings tensing in preparation to dive right for the counter and retrieve his friend before he spotted the base of the object and frowned in disappointment. It was just a toy, the wide base under its feet giving it away. It wasn’t Jacob.  
  
Every time Bowman had to venture farther away from Dean's corner, his nerves increased. He was putting more distance between himself and his only protection. Any other human could grab him and he'd be helpless in their grasp, his only hope of escape resting in the fact that Dean  _might_  be able to see him being taken. Otherwise, Bowman could disappear as surely as Jacob had.  
  
He had to find Jacob. He  _had_  to. He'd promised to look out for the downsized human, a human that had saved his life in the past and become a welcome friend to the whole village of Wellwood. So, shaky breaths and trembling hands or no, Bowman would keep searching until he exhausted himself, and he'd probably try to fly on even then.  
  
If Jacob was still in the library, Bowman was going to find him.  
  
His search pattern took him in ever-widening circles away from Dean, and the towering shelves and shadowed books became his only company.   
  
Bowman scoured every surface he passed by and peered behind every piece of gigantic square furniture arranged throughout the humans’ archive. With Dean’s warnings still in his head and his own heart pounding from his vulnerability, he remained near the ceiling, relying on his sharp eyesight to spot any small objects that might resemble his lost best friend trying to hide.  
  
He had nearly combed the entire library when he finally noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He stared at a human nestling seated at one of the tables in the room. Green eyes squinted closely. The mother was enthralled with the thick tome in her hands, but the child...  
  
The child completely ignored the colorful sticks and artwork in front of him. His attention fixed on a small object clutched in his pudgy hands. Bowman shifted around for a better view from his high, shadowed perch. He realized what the child was holding and his eyes widened while his stomach dropped into his boots.   
  
The boy had a small figure clutched in one hand, a very tiny, very fragile arm resting on a fingertip of the other hand, slowly lifting it and moving it in different directions as he observed the "toy" he'd discovered, testing its limits with childlike awe.   
  
This toy didn't have a plastic base under it like the other one.   
  
The thing in that giant nestling's hands had to be Jacob, helpless against whatever manipulations the human put him through, fragile and easily hurt. He was clearly trying desperately to remain still despite the grip around him that  _had_  to be too tight. Bowman's heart almost left his chest at the sight of his best friend’s predicament.  
  
Bowman watched with his hands gripping his hair. There was nothing he could do. If he swooped in, the kid would catch him in that other hand or the mother would smack him away in surprise with that book she was holding. The tome would easily crush the life out of a sprite like Bowman or a human like Jacob or Sam.  
  
Bowman kept his eyes on them in horror, knowing he should alert Dean but unable to look away. Every second could be the end of Jacob's life and, try as he might, Bowman couldn’t move.  
  
So he watched. And he waited.  
  


* * *

  
Fear for his life filled Jacob from head to toe. He tried his best to be discreet about breathing. With the kid's pudgy fingers wound around him from the waist down, it was a difficult and painful task. His bruised ribs burned with pain, almost demanding that he cry out. He couldn’t make a sound. Not only would it make things worse for him, it could make things worse for Sam and Bowman as well, as the discovery of other small people would surely follow.  
  
He had to hold on.  
  
The boy's fingertip lifted his left arm above his head at a dangerous angle, but he persevered. Jacob held his breath, wondering distantly if the limb would be ripped off whether by accident or on purpose.  
  
It'd be easy. Like shredding a blade of grass in one's hands. Jacob couldn't help a shudder at the thought.  
  
The boy's smile told Jacob that he wasn't trying to be rough on purpose, but the clumsy good intentions of a child only went so far. If the others didn't find him, and fast, Jacob would either be discovered for what he was or just plain crushed in a young kid's grip.  
  
The hand containing his body lurched upwards, closer to the boy's face. Jacob couldn't help but glance fearfully at the mouth that was now inches away. Pearly white teeth came into view as the child chewed his lip thoughtfully. Even the teeth of a child would make short work of his frail body, and there would be no chance of a last second save like with Dean.  
  
These people didn't know him. They wouldn't care.  
  
If the child decided to shove him in his mouth, it would be with full knowledge of what he was doing. He could just suck on the toy like little kids often did, playing with it and crushing it against teeth bigger than Jacob’s head even as he returned to his coloring. Jacob was of little enough consequence to be absently left there.  
  
The kid could accidentally swallow. After all, legos got eaten all the time. Jacob was no different than a toy to these people.  
  
Jacob would vanish, his friends once again having no idea what had happened to him. They would search, they would have to give up. The kid would never even know the difference as Jacob was digested. His mom might lightly scold him, but nothing would be done to save Jacob as he suffocated, any air trapped with him quickly escaping up a one-way tunnel to be released as an innocent burp, the last sign of his existence.  
  
His heart beat a little faster. At least he didn't  _look_  like a candy to tempt the kid that held him; he just looked like a tiny toy.   
  
 _Please don't eat me..._    
  
Enormous blue eyes looked over him keenly. His small eyes stared back, unblinking even in his panic. Sam's words continued to echo in his mind.  _If anyone else is around, you freeze._  
  
The other hand returned. This time his arm was pinched between a thumb and finger each bigger than his head. He could feel the casual, unrealized strength there. The strength of a child's hand made his own finely-honed muscles look like nothing.   
  
Jacob felt the fist around him loosening and knew what was coming next. There was no way for him to stop it. He grit his teeth and prepared, but he knew there was no avoiding what was next.  
  
The fist opened. Jacob fell until his weight yanked down on his trapped arm, his entire body jolting from the sudden flare of pain. He kicked his legs and tried to curl up in pain as he dangled in open air above a drop that would break him.  
  
When he was suddenly dropped back onto an open palm, he realized the boy must have seen the pained spasm. Even so, Jacob fell still again, hoping against hope that the boy would write it off. Sam's advice was all he had and he clung to it out of a desperation born of fear.  
  
"Are you  _real?_  " The voice boomed around him, full of awe. A fingertip prodded at Jacob's side and he almost bit his tongue trying to avoid crying out and wiggling away from it. The fingertip brushed across bruised ribs, sending mind-numbing  _pain_  crackling across Jacob’s body.  
  
The boy speaking up caught his mother's attention after all this time. She looked over her book with a frown. Jacob saw confusion in her eyes as they fell on his form.  
  
No recognition of his plight. No worry. Just mild confusion and a vague curiosity that was reserved for inconsequential items.  
  
Like him.  
  
"Sweetie, what did you find?" she asked, putting her pen in her book to mark the page. She set her book aside and leaned forward, peering down at Jacob.  
  
The boy looked up at her imploringly. In his excitement, Jacob was held up like a prize, the sweaty hand around him loosening to show the mother. Jacob’s heart beat in fear as she squinted at him.  
  
"I found it right here at the table! Can't I have it mom, just this one time?"  
  
The words sent Jacob’s already-roiling stomach on overdrive with butterflies. His life, as far as these people were concerned, was up for grabs.  
  
The mother smiled, endeared. It was the most terrifying expression she could have made. She opened her mouth.  
  
Jacob closed his eyes, fully expecting to hear her say  _Of course, sweetie. It's yours,_  and sign his life away to a seven year old who might have realized that he wasn't just a neat toy.  
  
There had to be a God, because instead she said "No, sweetie. Someone else probably lost it and might be missing it right now."   
  
Jacob didn't have time to be relieved, because before he or the kid could react, the mother's larger hand had pried him away, scooping him into an all-encompassing fist once more. Jacob rolled against her fingers before they pressed him lightly to her palm, smelling of book pages and hand lotion. Her hand closed fully around him, covering his body on all sides in an unbreakable grip.  
  
Jacob heard an enormous fingernail tapping on the table as the woman stood up with him trapped hopelessly in her grasp. To this woman, he was just a toy to be discarded, kept away from her child lest he choke on his new find. She didn’t care how quickly she moved him, unlike Dean. Suddenly, being jostled in Dean’s hand didn’t sound so bad.  
  
"Keep coloring your fire truck, hon. I'm going to put this in the lost and found so whatever little boy lost it might be able to come and get it, okay? You did a good job finding it."  
  
 _Lost and Found?_  Jacob thought incredulously. It took all his self-control to resist squirming in the woman's tight grasp. He couldn't breathe and his aching ribs were a fireball of pain on his chest. But at least he'd be out of her hand very soon.  
  
And hopefully free.   
  
Then he'd have to figure out a way to get back to Dean and safety before some  _other_  little boy discovered him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where lost toys go...
> 
> The monster hunter world beta is this weekend and ends tuesday, so I won't be overly responsive until then, lol.
> 
> If anyone wants to chat about the stories, BA has a [discord chat](https://discordapp.com/invite/sjkqB9A)! Come join us!
> 
> **Next:** December 13 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	25. Acrophobia Revisited

Bowman fluttered to the top of another shelf, watching the woman's progress while his wings almost itched to swoop down and take his friend back. He had to be patient to make the most of the opportunity. It wasn't much of a break, but it would have to do. Considering the luck they had, the odds were no worse than usual.  
  
He made sure to wait until he actually saw the human woman drop Jacob into an old plastic bin the size of a sprite house. Jacob tumbled out of her grasp, and Bowman was tremendously relieved that she had lowered her hand in the bin before dropping him. She left him there without another thought, leaving Jacob stranded in the box up on a table near the front counter.  
  
It was just a matter of diving in there, retrieving Jacob, and getting out.   
  
So simple.   
  
Bowman was about to make his move when someone approached the front counter with their arms full of books. He flicked his wings in irritation. They'd easily see him if he tried to save Jacob now. Bowman had no way of taking on a human if they got their hands on him, especially with Dean all the way across the library, out of range to help or notice what was happening.  
  
It was time to get the towering human.  
  
Bowman threw caution to the wind as he hurtled straight back towards the corner where Dean and Sam should still be searching for Jacob. His shadow flashed past the lights, casting flickers as he disturbed the flow of the artificial light. He didn't care. Some of the humans even glanced up in confusion, searching for the source of the disturbance.   
  
It didn't matter. Bowman was too quick for them anyway.  
  
His friend  _needed_  help. Jacob had saved all of their lives before. They couldn't let him down.   
  
In mere seconds, he was back, swooping towards the familiar human he'd somehow become close friends with over the last year.  
  
He all but dropped onto a shelf right in front of where Dean was methodically searching for the tiny, nearly invisible signs of Jacob’s presence. With a wince, Bowman stumbled and nearly crashed after the harsh landing. He was too frantic for a graceful return.  
  
He didn't waste any time folding his wings before announcing "I found him. A mother took him from her nestling and put him in the, um, 'Lost and Found' place? I can't get to it right now because there's people there but he's trapped in there and I dunno how well he can hide." The words spilled out, the frantic sprite hardly taking a breath until he was done.  
  
“Great,” Dean hissed. He wasted no time scooping Bowman up into his grasp as the explanation sank in. He held the sprite close to his chest, keeping him hidden under the jacket while he scanned their surroundings with paranoid eyes to make sure Bowman’s clumsy, worried entrance had gone unnoticed. None of them could afford him being spotted when everything  _else_  was already going wrong.  
  
Bowman, thanks to how dire the situation was, for once did not find it in him to gripe about a fist wrapping around him all of a sudden. He hated that feeling, of having his body and wings restrained so easily, but this was a rare exception to his rule. He could yell at Dean later when they had Jacob back.  
  
At least he could trust Dean to be careful when he grabbed. If Jacob was found by anyone else, he didn't even have that.  
  
“Good job spotting him,” Dean spoke as he exited the aisle. He could feel Sam shifting in his side pocket, listening to the conversation going on above him. Even from there, Dean could tell that Sam was nervous hearing what Bowman had said. Lost and Found. Anyone could grab Jacob if they were so inclined. No one else would care.  
  
But now they knew where he was, and they could get him out. Dean needed a plan, so he could ensure nothing would go wrong.  
  
Hopefully.  
  
He examined the library, marking the distance to the front counter. There weren’t a lot of people in there, for which he was grateful, but there were more than enough to easily cause problems if Jacob was discovered for what he was. They needed to move fast.  
  
“Okay,” Dean said, switching into planning mode as he opened his fist. Bowman tumbled to the center of his hand, safe now that they were out of sight of the other humans. “I’ll go grab him from the Lost and Found. But I want you to keep an eye out from the ceiling in case anything  _else_  goes wrong. Keep high, and keep one eye on Jacob and one eye on me. If I can’t get to him but you see an opening, grab him.”  
  
Dean grabbed the bottom pane of one of the huge windows in the library, one hand gripping it solidly. Shifting the metal lever, he propped it a few inches open. With full summer in swing, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to see an open window. Knowing his next act  _would_  grab attention if he wasn’t careful, Dean was discreet when he pulled out his knife, slicing a hole in the screen that protected the interior of the library from any bugs coming in. The hole was big enough for a certain sprite to slip right out.  
  
Next, he met Bowman’s gaze solemnly. “If you manage to grab him, don’t wait for us. We'll be fine, and getting Jacob out of here is all that matters. There’s a panic room in the Impala, Sam’s size. By the back tires I made him an entrance. You’ll be able to spot it; it has a brighter metallic sheen compared to the rest of the car. You should be able to just fly in. Follow the tunnel to the end and there’s a trap door you can push open in the ceiling. Once you’re in the panic room, wait there until we get back to the car. It’s designed so that you can lock it up and no other humans can get in there. Jacob can show you how the lock works.”  
  
Not a single sassy remark waiting on his lips, Bowman scrambled to his feet and once again took off quickly, soaring back up to the tops of the towering shelves. The layers of dust up there were still stirring from the last time he fluttered past. Bowman had to hold in a sneeze.  
  
As Dean began to make his way out from behind the shelves, Bowman started his short journey back towards the counter with the book woman. She was poking at her computer more and moving books around as always, and Bowman appreciated her predictability. The the table next to her section of the library was still there, with the plastic container on top of it. Jacob was still trapped in there, possibly injured by the nestling or his mother.  
  
Bowman tried his best to keep his mind off the state of his friend. He  _would_  get him back. He darted to the top of a nearby shelf and settled down to wait as Dean began his approach. His nerves were reaching their limits and his wings were flexing open and closed. The sprite was like a string pulled taut; he could bolt at any second, at any sign that he needed to get to Jacob.   
  
What minor form of good luck they had evaporated and nearly drew an alarmed cry out of Bowman when, instead of Dean reaching the table first, another human did. They carried a heavy bag on their shoulders, which was dropped loudly on the floor. It sounded like it was full of as many things as Dean's duffel bag; it certainly made enough noise for it.  
  
And then the human lazily grabbed the edge of the plastic bin, dragging it across the table with an agonizing scraping noise that sent a chill right up Bowman's spine. As the human began to root through the items in the box, Bowman Prayed fervently that Jacob could keep himself safe until Dean arrived to claim him.  
  
_We're on the way, Jacob,_  he thought desperately.  _Just hang in there._  
  


* * *

  
The woman opened her hand and Jacob barely managed to swallow a yelp of fear, desperate to keep her from realizing he was alive. Somehow, she had never once lifted him to her face for a curious glance over what her child had found. Jacob could only consider himself lucky.  
  
After barely more than a second of freefall, he landed on worn, knitted material threadbare enough for him to reach a hand through. Amazed that his terrifying fall hadn't ended with him slamming down and breaking several bones against hard plastic, he pushed himself up to his hands and knees with a wince. He'd been dumped onto an old beanie.  
  
The woman left, not even giving Jacob a second thought now that she had gotten him out of reach of her child. After all, he was just some little cheap toy that'd surely be discarded by the kid in the first five minutes home. What use was there in letting the boy carry him back? Whatever her reasons, he thanked his luck that the kid hadn’t had time to really figure him out.  
  
Jacob rolled over on his back to take a few deep breaths and wait for his racing heart to calm down. He could afford to take a few seconds.  
  
While lying there recovering, he surveyed his latest prison and the other things in it with him. The walls of the cheap blue plastic bin stretched far overhead and cast a tinted shadow over him. They were impossible for him to scale on his own. Sam would make short work of it with his grappling hook, but Jacob didn't have any of those ...   
  
An idea struck him. He might not have climbing gear like Sam, but he might have the raw materials. With a groan and a meager wave of fresh energy, Jacob sat himself up. His bruised ribs flared up before begrudgingly returning to a dull ache.  
  
He considered his fellow lost and found items. If he could just find the right building blocks, maybe he'd be able to help himself out of a shitty situation for once. He'd never even once attempted to make a grappling hook, but necessity might be a good enough teacher.  
  
Other than the hat, there was a smart phone with a spiderweb of cracks along the screen. It looked like it might have been run over at least once, and Jacob didn't have to wonder why it hadn't been claimed. There was a miniature flashlight (meaning it was the size of a minivan) that had a string on one end meant to hook onto a carabiner, but even if he could figure out how to unfasten the thing it wouldn't be enough to reach the top. Three shabby wristwatches, a child's play wallet with marker scribble all over, and a spiderman action figure covered in dirt and missing an arm were consigned to the container with him.  
  
_Damn. Tough luck, Spidey,_  Jacob thought with a wince, his hand subconsciously going to his own sore shoulder. The kid hadn't held him up by his arm long enough to do more than strain it, but the action could have had disastrously crippling results. Jacob was simply too fragile.  
  
Jacob scooted off the hat and onto the bottom of the lost and found bin, looking around at the simple, everyday objects that for the most part would now be too heavy for him to lift. A paperclip with bright red plastic coating the wire almost tripped him up. A  _paperclip._  It was as long as he was. An object that Jacob could normally unbend with idle movements of his fingertips would now be tough to even throw very far.  
  
_Maybe the others will realize where I am,_  Jacob mused hopefully, knowing how foolishly optimistic it was. He didn't even know how he'd suddenly been warped away from them. Who knew if they'd even notice right away? Anything could happen to him at this size.  
  
Jacob stopped to look pensively down at a broken half of a woman's compact, the mirror split with a Y-shaped crack right through the middle. He looked like shit, even after a chance at a bath that morning. There were still bags under his eyes and his skin seemed pale even in the blue-shadowed light in the bin. His clothes were hopelessly rumpled. Jacob hadn't even been tiny for twenty four hours and he looked like he'd been roughing it for a week.  
  
What reason would the others have to ever look for him here? He was on the opposite side of the library from where he'd started. He shouldn’t be able to go that far from Dean's immediate vicinity at his current size, and no one could have predicted him zapping away. Jacob would be forgotten in the lost and found bin, just like every other item inside. Things got dumped inside and no one ever came searching for them.  
  
And, when the bin became too cluttered or the librarian got annoyed with it, the whole thing would likely be tipped into the trash, sent plummeting into an immense plastic bag that not even Sam could scale out of.  
  
Jacob sat down on the face of a fake gold watch and leaned his elbows on his knees, peering with dull eyes at the old junk. The brief bout of energy was gone, replaced by a deep-seated exhaustion that brought his world crashing down over his head. There was nothing he could hope to use to make anything to help himself, and there was no way he'd be able to climb out otherwise. He didn’t have the skill or the strength.  
  
He was trapped.  
  
His depressing thoughts were derailed completely when enormous fingers came into view overhead, clamping onto the edge of the bin.   
  
They didn't belong to Dean. They were thinner and shorter, lacking the calluses Dean had earned after years of hunting.  
  
Before he could even gasp, let alone brace himself, the entire structure dragged along with a loud, intermittent scraping noise against the table. He toppled off the watch and let out a surprised breath, then pitched forward when the bin came to a stop again.  
  
Jacob looked up and saw someone looking in. It was another kid, older than the last. By the shifty look on his face, even less appealing a captor. Jacob dove behind the flashlight as an enormous hand reached into the bin. Curling into a ball, he covered his head with his arms as the gigantic items were shifted around, easily tossed aside by careless fingers as the kid searched for something interesting to steal.  
  
Jacob wouldn't have thought his heart could pound faster while the objects around him smashed into each other. The kid was muttering to himself, naming each thing his hands fell upon. Jacob saw the shadow looming as the phone was lifted out and claimed, but his nightmare wasn't over. Just as quickly the hand was back.  
  
With an increasing sense of dread, he watched the shadow get bigger and bigger on the back wall of the bin as the kid's hand approached his hiding place. The flashlight he cowered behind was snatched away.  
  
With nowhere else to go, and no way to dive out of sight again, he fell flat on his back. Sam's advice to  _freeze_  echoed in his head.  
  
It didn't matter. He'd been noticed.  
  
The entire lost and found bin shook when the flashlight was dropped with a  _bang_. Jacob trembled as finger and thumb returned for him and pinched him roughly around the waist. Vertigo struck as the bottom of the bin dropped away. The kid lifted him from his hiding place with a swift motion. Jacob grimaced, but luckily the kid's hand was in the way. He didn't have to worry about his expression drawing attention.  
  
There was a dizzying flip as the boy turned him over in his careless grasp, bringing Jacob close to his face. Jacob forced his face into an unenthused expression, eyes unblinking as his body was observed down to the last detail. After what seemed like an age, Jacob started to worry he'd be carelessly tossed back into the bin. With the casual strength of a human behind the toss, Jacob’s bones would all shatter as soon as he hit anything.  
  
The boy, it seemed, had other plans.  
  
Rather than flick his wrist and throw Jacob back into the lost and found, the kid looked down and kicked at a shabby old canvas backpack the size of a school building. Jacob's eyes widened as the hand holding him moved so he was held directly over a dark, yawning abyss surrounded on either edge by the scuffed silver zipper that would be closed up behind whatever the backpack swallowed up. He would never escape if he was to fall in. The distance seemed to draw out longer and longer beneath his feet, making his head throb just at the  _thought_  of how high up he was.   
  
The drop would be like falling 200 feet. Not even Sam or Bowman would survive such a fall. The boy was about to let him go, to claim his toy by sending it plummeting into that dark space.  
  
Jacob stared downward, unable to breathe. His legs dangled helplessly from a kid's fingers and his mind buzzed with a growing white noise of terror. There'd be no stopping this one. His friends had no idea where he was, and no way to know how dire his situation was. Nothing else mattered but the view below, a view that would soon rush up to greet him.  
  
When that boy let go, Jacob would fall straight down to his death at the bottom of that bag. He would be forgotten entirely until the boy got home and found his broken corpse. He might even be crushed beyond recognition by that time.  
  
Jacob quaked and the seconds turned into hours as he felt the grip around him loosen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan's in action! And.... someone else got to Jacob first.
> 
> Don't look down 
> 
> **Next:** December 17 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	26. Putting the Plan in Action

With Bowman’s shadow flickering by above, Dean made his way through the aisles, trying to get to the main counter without making a scene. It should be an easy in, grab Jacob as gently as he could, easy out. Sam could make sure he was alright once they were in the pocket together. He held out the hope that it’d be that simple.  
  
His heart fell when he saw a kid standing by the counter with a dusty old bin in front of him.  _Crap…_  his mind started up a stream of curses as the kid stood up with something tiny and dark clutched between huge fingers. There was no question in Dean’s mind of what that kid had found.  _Fuck, we’re too late…_  
  
He practically leapt the last few paces, coming to a halt only three feet away from the kid. “Oh, hey!” he said loudly, interrupting the kid before the fingers released Jacob over a deadly, terrifying plunge into a backpack.  
  
Those fingers tensed again, tightening their hold on Jacob once more. At least he wasn’t about to be dropped. Dean held himself at the ready, prepared to lunge forward to catch Jacob if he had to. Memories rose up of the time he’d tried to catch Sam like that. His brother had ended up with a sprained wrist from the collision. Jacob would be far worse off if Dean caught him even slightly the wrong way. His bones were a lot thinner than even Sam’s.  
  
A broken arm or leg would be better than dead.  
  
“Whaddya want?” the kid griped at him, suspicious dark eyes staring at the tall man in front of him.  
  
Dean held out a hand, waving at the ‘toy’ the kid was holding. “My kid brother… he’s been lookin’ for that for an hour now. I’m so glad to see you found it for us safe and sound.” He gave the kid a broad smile, hiding any trace of the anger he felt at Jacob’s precarious position. Holding out a hand, Dean twitched his fingers. “I’ll just take it back now.”  
  
Jacob was whipped through the air as the kid held him closer. “Finders keepers,” he said begrudgingly. He ignored the way Dean’s face turned to a dark glare. “Didncha know that,  _stupid?_  ”  
  
Dean’s eyes were locked onto Jacob.  _I’ll get you out of this,_  he swore.  _No matter what it takes._  
  
He took a step forward, closing the distance in case he needed to leap to catch Jacob. “Well, I don’t want to brag, but that toy’s nothing.” Dean gave the kid a smirk. He had an idea. His hand dropped to his side and he started absently drumming against the pocket. Sam froze up, paying close attention to what Dean was conveying to him even as he continued to talk. “We’ve got  _way_  better toys than that.”  
  
Sam punched back a few times. He hated the idea, which was no surprise to Dean, but for Jacob… they’d do anything they had to. Both of them.  
  
The kid looked critically at the toy pinched in his fingers for a few seconds. It was pretty life-like. It looked like one of those expensive custom made minis sold at the local toy shop. If he got bored of it he could pawn it off to one of his friends for something cool. He was still intrigued, as seen by the almost shark-like look on his face. He lowered the hand holding Jacob slightly and focused narrowed eyes at the tall guy. "Like what?" he asked, taking the bait but not giving back his find just yet.  
  
Jacob was curious, too, but he couldn't even try to come up with ideas. The pressure on his ribs was nearly enough to bust them if the kid tightened up his hand again, and it stole half of his focus.   
  
Jacob glanced over at Dean. The enormous giant standing what must only be four feet away but felt like the length of a football field was the only thing keeping him from plummeting to his death. The focus on the hunter's face was unmistakable. The huge green eyes were locked on Jacob without wavering and he could almost hear the  _trust me_  in that look. Though Jacob's heart was hammering in his chest with fear, he could tell the man already had a plan.  
  
The twitching of Dean's hand caught Jacob's attention. Sam must be in on it. That hand appeared for all the world to be absently tapping against Dean's side, but Jacob knew better. Sam was inside that pocket, interpreting the message and probably giving his own feedback in the form of small punches that were unnoticeable to anyone else.   
  
Briefly emboldened by the knowledge that his friends were working together to help him, he sucked in a shallow breath, hoping it wasn't too risky. The unending pinch around his sides constantly threatened to transition one of his ribs from bruised to snapped, and he doubted he’d be able to hold in his hoarse yelp of pain if that happened.  
  
Jacob kept his eyes on Dean, hoping whatever idea he had cooked up would take effect in time to save him. At any moment the boy could decide he was bored humoring the adult and just toss Jacob into his backpack. The greedy glint in the eyes above him hinted that this was a growing possibility.  
  
“For one thing,” Dean said disparagingly, pulling Jacob's attention right to that huge face. The casual expression was dismaying even if it was only an act.   
  
Dean went on. “That’s one of our smallest toys. My brother just keeps it around because our dad gave it to him before he passed. I mean, when you hold it up to,” his hand reached into his pocket, “ _this_ , there’s really no comparison.”  
  
His fingers looped firmly around Sam’s body. He could feel his little brother trembling even as he was withdrawn into the light. Regret hammered in Dean’s chest in an accusatory pattern. He knew from experience that a child finding him and treating him like a toy scared Sam more than almost anything else, and here they were, pretending he  _was_  one. At his size, he looked like a super-realistic action figure. At the moment, it was the only chance they had, past Dean prying Jacob from the kid’s hand. That would only result in a broken best friend, something he refused to ever let happen.  
  
Once Sam was out of the pocket, he froze up. Every instinct in him was screaming at him to get away, get under cover and  _hide!_  One human had a hand wrapped around him, another was staring greedily at him like he was the world’s coolest toy. His neck almost burst into flame at the sense of  _danger_  that crawled up it. He managed to keep from flinching or twitching even as Dean’s other hand gently encircled him.  
  
Sam was holding his handcrafted knife in front of himself in a defensive position, legs bent in one of the stances Dean had taught him. If he had brighter clothing on, he would fit right in with the action figures they sold at the toy stores around the country, only he was far more realistic.  
  
Dean’s voice went on overhead as Sam started to sweat. “This one we had custom made. The knife’s sharp enough to cut if you ain’t careful with it.” A huge finger came up underneath Sam’s elbow, nudging it to a new position. He let his arms and legs be manipulated until he was in an attacking position, knife held out like he was slicing towards an enemy.  
  
Even the kid seemed impressed. The hand holding Jacob tight was relaxed in his distraction as his dark eyes were glued to Sam.  
  
“But, hey. You’ve got that little thing that ain’t even worth much. I mean, it isn’t even big enough to really  _see,_  so what’s the point?” Dean hefted Sam up. “Want to give this one a try?”  
  
The kid narrowed his dark eyes. “Yeah.” Once he got that one in hand, he could just dart out of the library. It was  _way_  more interesting that the figure in a hoodie he’d found.  
  
Dean shrugged at Jacob. “You need two hands to make it work. Might wanna put that one down for a sec.” He held out Sam’s trembling form, offering to hand him off.  
  
Jacob was dropped on the counter. Greedy hands reached towards Sam, the smallest hunter temporarily forgotten with the larger prize up for grabs.  
  
When there was less than half a foot between the kid’s hands and Dean’s, Sam felt a finger come up beneath his boots and recognized his signal. Jumping into motion, he used it to spring up out of Dean’s grip, landing on the top of his brother’s hand. The hand was held motionless to give him a steady surface for balance.   
  
The moment of shock was all he needed to make his escape. The kid froze, his eyes wide as the ‘action figure’ started to move on his own.  
  
Sam darted up Dean’s long arm, wasting no time diving under Dean’s thick collar and out of sight. He huddled against the massive shoulder, feeling his shudders start to calm down even as Dean finished.  
  
“Oh, guess he doesn’t like you. Too bad, guess you’ll have to find another one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam _definitely_ doesn't like that kid.
> 
> **Next:** December 20 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	27. Sprite's Eye View

Jacob's eyes widened in shock at the sight of Sam in Dean's fist.  _This is their plan?!_  What if the kid just snatched Sam right out of Dean's hands? Jacob knew Dean would never let the boy keep  _either_  of them, but all it took was one tight grab to snap an arm or a leg… or a rib. Jacob was discovering how easy that painful possibility really was even now.  
  
 _Sam's shit scared of kids,_  Jacob recalled with a flutter of his heart. He understood the fear now, and it made him even more worried about the plan. Sam was putting himself right in front of his biggest fear,  _within reach,_  all to help Jacob. He shouldn’t have to, but without his help, Jacob could die.  
  
Jacob sucked in a breath when the grip around him relaxed, no longer preventing his lungs from drawing in air. He watched with mingled worry and interest as things played out in front of him. Two titans, discussing the tiny "toys" in their grasps. Even though he knew it was all part of Dean's ruse, it discouraged him to be talked about that way.  
  
He held onto the hope that at least it might get him out of there before he got crushed between two careless fingers like a grape. Jacob's stomach was squeamish again, and he was glad he hadn't had anything to eat yet. He suddenly had a much greater appreciation for Dean's handling, whether or not the guy felt him on his hand. At least he put effort in not crushing Jacob.  
  
And then he was falling again.  
  
The hand holding him swooped towards the counter and released him, sending him tumbling haphazardly onto it and bashing his already-battered limbs. Jacob groaned quietly, unable to help himself. The sound of Dean talking drowned out any noise he involuntarily allowed to slip out.  
  
Near the ceiling, bright green eyes widened with realization. Bowman, watching from above with bated breath, knew he'd see no other opportunities like this one. He dove from the shelf on silent wings, darting straight down and landing on the table near Jacob before the too-tiny human even rolled to a stop. Jacob was dizzy and offered the sprite little resistance when he slipped his hands underneath him and tucked him close to his chest.  
  
And just like that, Bowman was off again, springing back to the top of the shelf in a matter of seconds. The whole action happened fluidly, like he’d choreographed and executed a flawless dance. His heart was pounding loudly in Jacob's ears, the way he was held against Bowman's chest. When Jacob was set down atop the shelf, the tiny human immediately stumbled and fell to a seated position with a pained grimace on his face.  
  
Bowman knew he was sore from having his ribs pinched and being whipped around and tossed to the table so carelessly, but he didn't have time to shower him with attention. They needed to get out of there before the group's tiny trickle of luck ran out and some human caught sight of Bowman. He undid the long yellow scarf from around his waist with all the speed his trembling hands could manage. "Jacob, I need you to stand back up," he warned as he did so.  
  
Jacob grunted in pain, certain he was earning more bruises with each passing second, but managed to shove himself to his feet. He was just in time for Bowman to kneel in front of him and loop the scarf around behind him. He turned in surprise as Bowman tugged him closer with the yellow fabric, looping it under his tiny arms before wrapping it around his own middle again. There was another loop here and some twists of the fabric there and before Jacob knew it, he was harnessed quite securely to Bowman's lean torso.  
  
His legs were hanging free, but Jacob had a white-knuckled grip on the scarf when Bowman stood again. "B-Bowman, is this really a great idea?" he asked skeptically, though Jacob was unable to come up with an alternative. Bowman's hands were tucked carefully over Jacob's chest, one near his collarbone and one over his stomach as the sprite inched towards the edge of the shelf.  
  
"We just have to get out," Bowman muttered distractedly as he went over Dean's ‘just in case’ plan in his mind. Ignoring Dean and Sam for now, he looked out over the library. He could feel Jacob shaking, but he wouldn't lose hold of him; this was how young nestlings were carried, after all. Jacob was secured to Bowman without hindering his flight in any way. Jacob shivered more and more when Bowman was at the edge of the shelf, no doubt overcome with vertigo at the sight of the drop to the floor.  
  
Bowman wasn’t so worried. If there was one thing Bowman was confident about, it was flying. They wouldn't fall.  
  
He kicked off the edge of the shelf, and any yelps of surprise from Jacob were quickly swallowed again. Jacob froze and Bowman almost felt bad as he darted across the library. There would be no time to stop until they reached their goal.  
  
Jacob had his mouth open, but no cries came out. Wind whipped past his hair and tugged at his clothes. Harnessed to Bowman, he felt almost like he was the one doing the flying. The slight rise and fall on their aerial path with each beat of Bowman's swift, powerful wings made him feel almost like he was cruising along on slightly choppy waves.  
  
Except that was what felt like a thousand foot drop underneath him.  
  
Bowman's hands were still holding onto him for extra security, but there was no way to avoid watching the ground so far below fall behind them as Bowman darted forward. Jacob felt like he was on a plane. Or, strapped to the bottom of it might be more accurate.  
  
And then Bowman  _dove._  
  
The sprite's wings whispered as he tucked them closer and made a straight line for a window hidden away in one of the aisles. Jacob closed his eyes for most of the drop, unable to watch the hard ground rush up faster than even gravity could achieve. Bowman was  _fast._  Suddenly all the bragging and strutting about his wings made crystal clear sense.  
  
When Jacob finally opened his eyes again, he gasped to see that they were outside. The window must have been left open by Dean. They'd really covered all the bases with this rescue, which could only have had a few minutes to be planned out. Jacob was glad he had people like Dean, Sam, and Bowman looking out for him. Without Dean and Sam’s strategic teamwork or Bowman’s speed in the air, Jacob would be a goner by now.  
  
Bowman's heart rate, pounding madly behind his head, evened out once they were in the open air again. Bowman banked upwards towards a tree on the other side of the parking lot. "What the  _fuck_ , Bowman!" Jacob yelped as they angled higher and higher over the parking lot, the earth spread out far and wide beneath them.  
  
Jacob was treated to a brief glimpse of the way Bowman saw the world. With the small town arrayed around them and the painted horizon circling them, it almost didn't matter that the ground was so far away. Jacob knew that if he had wings of his own, even that detail wouldn't faze him. Bowman belonged in the air, his vibrant green wings glistening in the sunlight that fed him more energy to keep right on flying. His heartbeat continued in its relieved, elated rhythm.  
  
The sprite made it closer to the hulking black Impala across the parking lot with great speed, angling once more into a dive that made Jacob thankful once more that he hadn’t eaten yet that day. He actually yelled as the cement rushed up to greet them, coming within a few feet before Bowman's wings snapped open with a loud  _crack._ Jacob was in awe at the green-tinted shadow this cast on the pale cement dashing by below them.  
  
And then Bowman swooped under the Impala, casting them in her cool, protective shadow; the Impala was a safe haven for both of them, and always would be.  
  
"Bowman, what--" Jacob started to ask, but before he could get the words out, the sprite flew up towards an opening in the metal undercarriage. Bowman kicked his legs and scrabbled to hoist himself into the opening, but once he did they were in a dark tunnel.   
  
"What is this?" Jacob asked in a hushed tone, still tied to Bowman's middle. A sense of awe filled him as they started to make their way down a place he'd never dreamed of seeing. It almost felt like the passageway would fit in on a starship, drifting its way through the vastness of space.  
  
Bowman didn't answer. His heart was still racing behind Jacob as he started forward in the tunnel, hands outstretched cautiously in the dark. Wood sprite eyes didn't adjust very quickly to the dark, and it was pitch black in there. Jacob didn't try to press him for conversation; he was greatly unnerved himself.  
  
After what seemed like an age of silent walking with Jacob just hanging from the harness Bowman had tied him in, there was a sound of faint scrabbling and brushing against something metallic. Dim light fell onto both of them, just barely enough that they knew it was there. Bowman climbed up through the trap door and closed it behind him with an exhausted huff.  
  
Jacob looked around with interest. This had to be the panic room Dean had made for Sam. He’d mentioned it to Jacob a time or two. It was quite a large room compared to Jacob, though it had comfortable space in it even for Bowman with his big, quivering wings. A folded handkerchief that had covered the trap door moments before was crumpled in one corner. There was a roll of crisp bills stashed away next to a baggie of granola and a bottle of water. The wan light came in from air slits in the back wall, filtering into the Impala and under the bench seat.  
  
Before Jacob could observe the lock on the door closely, Bowman flopped onto his back, finally taking a breath. This left Jacob lying on Bowman's chest, but the sprite's hands were shaking too much to untie the scarf just yet. After a close call like that, he'd need some time. Jacob could feel him quivering from exertion and nerves, and realized that he himself was still shivering off and on.  
  
The pair of them waited to catch their breath in the panic room, both feeling much safer in the knowledge that no one could see them. They were protected, and Dean and Sam would return soon.   
  
Somehow, Jacob had survived his bizarre disappearing act.  
  


* * *

  
Dean took his leave of the kid quickly, ignoring the dark-eyed scowl sent in his direction when he refused to take Sam out of his hiding spot. There was a shout of surprise from behind him, and Dean smirked to himself. Bowman had done his job and got Jacob out of there while the kid was distracted with Sam. Even Dean had nearly missed the flash of green as the speedy sprite swept in.  
  
Just as planned.   
  
What  _hadn't_  been planned was forcing Sam to confront his greatest fear head-on. It reminded Dean of how much trust Sam had given him, letting him hold him in sight of anyone in the library that peered their way. He could still feel the phantom shivers against his grasp and it made his heart sink.  
  
He made his way back to the corner of the library, desperate to check on the small huddled form up on his shoulder. Sam hadn't moved an inch since diving underneath and hiding himself from the child's greedy glare.   
  
There was no sign of Bowman, so he must have gotten out of the library. With no other patrons nearby, Dean tugged his jacket off of his shoulder and gently gathered Sam up into his hand. Sam was still quaking in place, but the shivers were beginning to die down at last. Dean's heart fell at the fear that still covered Sam's face as he looked up at his big brother, and he knew that a portion of it might never leave.  
  
During their first case with Bowman, in the Wellwood itself, a poison had clouded Dean's mind. In his confusion, he'd grabbed his brother and Bowman, treating them like curious toys that he'd found just lying around. Stretching out Bowman's wings, flexing Sam's arms to see how far they'd go... remembering what he'd done, how close he'd come to hurting Sam...   
  
Jacob had tried to talk him down, and Sam had pleaded desperately for him to come back to them, afraid of losing his older brother once more, this time in a far more complete and total fashion as his mind was taken away by the poison and he turned on an entire village of innocents.  
  
Their gentle cajoling had broken through the darkness in him, bringing him back so that the sprites could heal him. Ever since then, it had become more difficult for Sam to drop his guard around Dean. The trust was still there, but there was also the understanding of how easily Dean could take control if he wanted to.  
  
Because of that, he did his best to never force Sam to do anything he didn't want to. This idea he'd had, of Sam pretending to be a toy, was one of the first times he'd done something like that, and it was only because their situation was so dire with Jacob's life hanging by a thread.  
  
Dean held Sam against his chest in a careful hug even as he gathered up the books that they'd left behind. "Sorry about that, Sammy," he apologized carefully. "I never woulda..."  
  
"I know, Dean," Sam said, his voice tremulous. "I understand. There was no other way." He tried to push away from Dean, but was held against the massive chest a few more moments before the hand pulled him away, bringing him in front of remorseful green eyes. "We promised we'd look out for him, there's no way I'd leave him to some stranger like that."  
  
Dean tried to give him a grin. "If anyone gets their hands on you, just remember I'll getcha back. No matter what."  
  
Sam took his place in Dean's chest pocket on the way out, trying to calm down next to the huge, thumping heart behind him. He closed his eyes, trying to match his breathing to Dean's slow, relaxed breaths. He was still shaking by the time they reached the Impala.  
  
Dean opened up the door with a familiar creak, dropping the books from the library onto the passenger's side of the bench seat. "Alright," he said softly. He lifted Sam out of the pocket. "Ready to get the others?" he asked.  
  
Sam nodded with a jerk, twitchy in Dean's hands. He was lowered down to the floor, hopping off when he was close enough. He waved his big brother off, and walked into the shadow under the seat. Aside from the metal box that was welded to the floor, the only other thing nearby was the massive box of cassettes that housed all of Dean's old-school rock music that Sam always teased him about. Most of those tracks were the same ones that had been in the car when they were growing up. The radio in the Impala mysteriously never ate the tapes. Sam swore they’d outlast any of the Winchesters at this rate.  
  
Reaching the panic room, Sam thudded his fist against the door. "Hey, you guys alright? I'm coming in, okay?"  
  
With Bowman recovering from his prey instincts going on overdrive and Jacob recovering from being pinched and tossed around and then pinched some more, the smaller hunter had nearly begun to doze. The knocking on the door made him flinch in surprise, almost having forgotten where they actually were. Bowman sat up, taking Jacob with him, while the sounds of the latch on the door echoed metallically around them.  
  
Bowman fumbled with the knot in his scarf at first, trembling hands having a hard time getting purchase. He finally got it as Sam opened the door, and the harness unraveled around Jacob to release him to the floor. Of course he stumbled immediately, prompting Bowman to place a hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling. Jacob was in rough enough shape already. He didn't need to knock his head on the metal walls around them.  
  
Jacob looked up at Sam with concern and lingering fear from the close call still in his eyes. "Sam ... you're okay, right? After I got dropped, I didn't see much ..."  
  
Sam took a few steps over, practically sinking to his knees next to Jacob to check for new injuries. "Mm fine," he managed to get out, lightly touching Jacob's chest to see if any of the ribs had broken. "The kid didn't get close to me."  
  
He tried to smile, but it just came out as a wince. "As soon as he went to grab me, Dean put a finger under my feet. I used it to jump, running up his arm before the kid could react." Sam rubbed his own arm, realizing he was still shaking from the close call. "Dean thought it would be a good enough distraction for Bowman to get in there and grab you. No one expects toys to come to life, right?"   
  
He hugged his arms to his chest, doing his best to put the memory out of his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Safe in the panic room!
> 
> **Next:** December 24 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	28. Matryoshkas

Jacob was still rattled from his own experience with the kid. He could only imagine how afraid Sam had been, after growing up with that fear of children instinctively embedded in his mind. He'd just been advertised as such a cool toy and very nearly snatched up by a greedy kid, and none of them knew what that boy would have done if he’d gotten away with either of them. Jacob noticed Sam’s shivering easily and knew he had to be thinking of similar things.  
  
It was lucky for him Sam was kneeling. Jacob didn't have as much trouble leaning forward to hug the guy, though he felt more like a little kid than ever doing it. Sam's shaking slowly abated from sheer surprise at the hug. Jacob was so small, he couldn't even get his arms properly around Sam's broad chest. Normally a hug from Jacob would find Sam cupped close to his chest and nearly vanishing into his grasp. But, even though that was impossible, their shared ordeal called for it.  
  
A pat on the back wasn't even possible. So instead Jacob just stood back and met Sam's gaze above him. "Look, dude, I know that was like the biggest deal, going through that. And the fact that you did it to help me ... it means a lot. Thanks, Sam."  
  
Jacob curled both his arms around his aching ribs, hardly realizing he was doing it. He was lucky that was all he had to deal with. Without Sam and Bowman stepping far out of their comfort zones to come to his rescue, Jacob would have died, no question.  
  
"Thanks to both of you," Jacob added, looking over his shoulder at Bowman. The sprite continued to sit against the wall as he put his scarf back where it belonged. He nodded and offered a faint smirk in return.  
  
"We'd all do it again," Sam said with conviction. "You've done so much for everyone, we'd never let you down."  
  
From outside, he heard a shifting as Dean moved in his seat. Remembering that Dean had no idea if Jacob and Bowman were okay, Sam forced himself to focus. "We need to get back to Dean. It's not safe to sit in the panic room while he's driving," Sam said. He brushed his arms one last time to try and push away the remaining trembles.  
  
Sam touched at Jacob's injured ribs. "We need to keep you from getting hurt more," he thought out loud. "Mind riding with me until we get back into the pocket?" Sam dropped his satchel on the floor. There was more than enough room for Jacob inside, but Sam took a few extra items out, leaving his journal along with the spare key for the panic room tucked inside the pages like a bookmark and a few other small supplies.  
  
Jacob pursed his lips at the bag while he considered it. Sam was offering, but Jacob was fairly certain it’d be insisted upon, based on the conviction in his eyes. He couldn't refuse; he was sore as hell and walking around did not sound very appealing. Every step for Sam or Bowman took three or four of Jacob’s. He had a lot of ground to cover just to get out from under the seat.  
  
Setting aside any embarrassment, he edged up to the bag and pushed down the side to make it easier to climb in. Thanks to sore ribs and the height of the bag, Jacob almost tumbled over just from that simple task. It was bizarre enough to get himself into a satchel, of all things. Knowing it was made for someone four inches tall was another thing entirely.  
  
Jacob managed to settle himself into the bag with his knees drawn to his chest, and his cheeks a little warmer than one might expect from the stuffy air in the black car sitting in the sun. He looked over and saw that Bowman was smiling faintly at him. "Oh, what? You're just jealous you don't have a portable Jacob to carry around," he quipped, earning a tired snicker from the sprite.  
  
"Oh, it's really too bad we can't make your picture. Rischa would just shriek if she saw this," Bowman teased.  
  
Sam gave a slight smile at that. "Careful, if Dean overhears you, he might just take a picture of Jacob on his cell phone," he said warningly, knowing they probably didn't actually have to worry about that.  
  
It would be tempting, but Dean knew as well as any of them that the risks were too great.  
  
Sam adjusted the bag around Jacob, making sure to keep the flap open. Then, in one easy motion, it was up on Sam's shoulder as he stood. Jacob didn't weigh much at all. In fact, with the stuff Sam had taken out, it was the same as always. He positioned it against his side, that way he could drape an arm over bag and hunter both, a sense of protectiveness creeping in at the sight of Jacob shifting around to get comfortable.  
  
It was hard for Jacob to not feel like a little kid when stuff like this kept happening. At least the satchel was a comfortable way to ride. Since he had such a long list of other things to worry about already, he decided to set aside his concern about the bag. It was bad enough that he'd just been dragged around like little more than a cheap toy, pinched easily in fingers longer than his body and just as easily tossed aside.  
  
To most people, Jacob was inconsequential. Too small to bother with. Even Dean wasn't physically affected by his presence. Jacob might as well be a feather. The thoughts put a faint frown on his face as he finally stopped moving and huddled in the satchel. He sent Sam a resigned thumbs-up.  
  
With Jacob begrudgingly settled, Sam and Bowman left the panic room behind. Sam shoved the door closed behind him, sealing it off from the world.  
  
The trek to the front of the seat only took a few moments, passing by the box of cassette tapes once more. Dean's right leg was before them, briefly shifting in place as he waited.  
  
Jacob looked up in awe. Dean's boot alone would be impossible to see over. Hell, just the rubber sole was almost as high up as Jacob's current stature. The towering, jean-clad leg above the boot stretched high overhead. Jacob could scarcely imagine what it'd look like to see Dean standing from a view near his feet. The thought almost gave him vertigo and Jacob had to stare at his knees for a few seconds to let the moment pass.  
  
Unbothered by the size of the boots and the limb before him, Sam came right up to the heel and started the easy climb up to Dean's knee. He scrambled up the towering leg, fingers easily finding purchase in the thick threads. Jacob was amazed by how quickly Sam climbed up that tower of denim. It was practically second nature to the guy after spending a year around humans. Jacob could even recall a time or two when Sam had climbed up  _his_  leg like that.   
  
They only made it a foot off the ground before Dean realized they were there. He shifted in his seat, peering down at the small hunter scaling his way up with an even smaller hunter in his satchel. A bit of the tension in Dean's face dissipated at the sight of Jacob safe and sound, peeking over the edge of the bag to watch their slow progress.  
  
Unwilling to wait until Sam made it up, Dean slipped his hand under them. Dean had to smirk faintly as the action startled the miniscule hunter into flinching back into the bag before turning his tiny face upwards.  
  
Jacob was pressed downward by gravity as he and Sam quickly rose to Dean's eye level. Sam tensed at the movement, holding himself taut with nerves. Even with it being his brother holding him, he continued to shake, coming down off his nerves from the library. It was sobering for Jacob to see exactly what Sam had meant when he'd said he had no control over his life unless they gave it to him. Even a simple movement like that from Dean, one where he just wanted to make sure his baby brother was okay and to check on Jacob, was a movement Sam could never hope to stop.   
  
If Dean squinted, he could just barely see the way Jacob blinked in the light. Bowman fluttered up to his customary spot on the dashboard in the corner of his eye while he lifted Sam and Jacob swiftly to his level so he could look them over. Past a slight, lingering grin at Sam's new way of carrying Jacob, he stayed serious. "Glad to see you in one piece," Dean said respectfully. He brushed a finger against the satchel. "That was a close one."  
  
Jacob's focus was inextricably drawn to the finger that nudged him in the bag. His hands, already clenched into fists as he kept himself steady in the bag, tightened slightly. It was his only outward sign of the lingering nerves he had, though there were plenty of inward signs. "You're not wrong," he replied emphatically. He even allowed himself a chill up his spine. If he had been kept by the kid with the crayons, maybe he wouldn't have been pinched and battered as much as he was, but they likely wouldn't have been able to get him back so easily. As children are wont to do, that kid would have gotten too rough with Jacob eventually anyway. He was simply too small and fragile.  
  
"I ... I really don't know what happened," he admitted sheepishly. He knew what questions might be coming next, so he preempted them. "One second I was on the table next to Bowman. Then I heard what sounded like someone snapping their fingers or something. And then I was all the way across the library and some kid thought I was a toy." As if reminded of the very brief flash of pain when he'd been held up by just his arm, Jacob's shoulder twinged. "His mom dropped me in the bin."  
  
Both brothers listened with frowns on their faces. Sam's deepened at the sound of a kid thinking Jacob was a toy. Bad enough he'd let Dean handle him like an action figure, a kid would be a thousand times worse. At least Dean understood how careful he had to be with the fragile body of his little brother, and how much trust Sam had given him with each movement. A kid could snap an arm in a second, or hold just a little bit too tight and crush him.  
  
Jacob was smaller, and more fragile than Sam would ever be. Even Dean would have a hard time holding him pinched between two fingers like that without exercising just a little bit too much strength and snapping a bone, and Jacob had been held like that by the second kid for over a minute.  
  
"It's starting to sound like this is more than just a case of a poison mushroom," Dean reflected. "Someone left that mushroom out there on purpose, they  _wanted_  it to be eaten by someone. They might have even targeted you knowing you've had those mushrooms before." He scowled angrily. "They're playing us like it's all just some game to them."  
  
Dean straightened, glancing out the windows of the car to make sure no one had spotted them. "I grabbed the books we had in the library so me and Sam can keep up with the research tonight." He gave Jacob his attempt at a reassuring smile. "You just relax and let us handle it. After a day like today, you need to take it easy a bit." His hand lowered down towards his pocket. "Just hang on for a few more minutes, okay? We'll be back at the motel in no time."  
  
The hand slipped into the pocket, letting Sam jump off. His legs were like jelly, so he ended up collapsing the moment he hit the swinging bottom of the enclosure. "S-sorry," he managed when he realized he'd ended up with the satchel sitting in his lap. "I just... need a minute."  
  
Jacob let his heart settle from the sudden drop. He glanced up, seeing how weary the other hunter was, and chose not to complain. Not that Jacob was the type to complain about much, anyway. Instead, he shrugged, settling himself in the bag. "Hey, trust me, that was  _nothing_  compared to Bowman diving."  
  
 _That_  had been actually terrifying. Even knowing Bowman was an expert with those wings, and having seen the sprite pull out of even sharper dives, Jacob had been afraid. The concrete, practically glaring at the pair of them and daring them to pick a fight, had rushed up to meet them faster than even just falling would have accomplished, thanks to Bowman's powerful wings propelling them downwards.  
  
Jacob could still feel the  _heat_  that radiated off the cement. They'd been that close to it before Bowman's wings snapped open.  
  
It had been almost beautiful to see the world through Bowman's eyes for a few seconds. Heartstopping, but beautiful. He got it now, why Bowman was so protective of his wings.  
  
Jacob shifted slightly, pushing Sam's journal with a gentle nudge so it didn't lean on him so much. The bag wasn't really terrible. The leather that Sam's dad had tanned was more pliant than stiff, so it didn't pinch its very tiny passenger. It was amazing that the man had been able to do such good leatherwork with the resources available to Sam's folk. If Jacob ever met the guy (hopefully well after he was his normal height again - he had earned a scolding from him for trapping Sam when they met), he'd have to compliment his handiwork.  
  
"I'm kind of adventured out anyway, so I don't plan to wander very far," Jacob added after his thoughtful pause.  
  
Sam let himself relax with Jacob's reassurance. His eyelids fluttered shut, his body overexerted from the tense situation he'd been subjected to.

[Artwork by MogaDeer!](https://mogadeer.deviantart.com/art/com-Nap-Time-678262769)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacob is in Sam's bag, who is in Dean's pocket. Like a crew of nesting dolls.
> 
> We hope everyone has a wonderful holiday! 
> 
> **Next:** December 27 th 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	29. Bullied

Up on the dashboard, Bowman didn't want to sit up for very long. His nerves were spent, now that he was coming down from the high alert of being around so many strange giants and corners behind which anything could be lurking. He lay on his back, his wings dropping open as he did so. Lethargy colored every movement.  
  
"I know it's just bad luck, but your archives seem  _dangerous,_ " he quipped, closing his eyes and letting the sun shine on him.  
  
Dean absently drummed his fingers on the wheel as he started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "It was definitely a lot less exciting when it was just me around," he conceded. "All I ever had to worry about was the dust from the books and nosy civilians asking me why I was reading such strange books."  
  
He glanced down at his pocket worriedly, wishing he could do more to help Sam and Jacob after the excitement. "The bad luck definitely seems to be adding up fast on this case. We need to catch a break, and soon."  
  
Bowman lifted his head from where he lay to peer at the human. Dean looked just as stressed as any of them. Bowman could hardly blame him. With everything that had happened, he was exhausted and he hadn't even gone through all of the things Jacob had.  
  
"It is strange," he agreed. "It's one thing to go unnoticed because he's nestling-sized, but to disappear entirely?" He laid his head back down, staring up at the windshield forlornly. The tops of buildings and some small, over-manicured trees passed by in his peripheral vision.  
  
What could possibly have it out for Jacob? Aside from being grabby with Bowman at first, the sprite didn't see anything to complain about. Jacob was careful and kind. He was especially patient with the younger sprites that came to see him when he visited the village.  
  
Bowman knew it couldn't be any magic coming from the Spirits, either, because the Earth Spirit Herself had visited the human in a dream before, along with Sam and Dean. She wouldn’t turn on him without a good reason or some kind of warning.  
  
Even after facing the lich and its foul spellwork nearly a year ago, Bowman was astounded that magic could be used for such malicious purposes. It was supposed to be used to help in some way. Anything else, according to all of his beliefs and the beliefs of any sprite, was a misuse. It was  _wrong._  
  
A thought occurred to him. "Don't forget to tell your friend with his own archive that Jacob vanished and reappeared somewhere else," he pointed out. "Maybe, uh, Bobby can figure something out from that."  
  
Dean arched an eyebrow at him. Bowman really could focus when the situation called for it, as frenetic as he was. "I plan on calling him as soon as we get back, actually. This disaster actually might give us some more leads to go on." He chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Instead of one mushroom that shrinks people, we've got an outside force that can teleport a person across a room. And one with a sick sense of humor, putting Jacob at risk that way."  
  
He shook his head angrily. "Whoever this sonovabitch is, we'll make him pay for that."  
  
Bowman's brow furrowed at the conviction in Dean's voice, but he didn't add anything to it. He was entirely out of his element. He'd volunteered to come along and help Jacob, but he couldn't contribute much beyond keeping an eye on the little guy. As today demonstrated, even that wasn't enough if their unseen enemy decided to send Jacob somewhere else.  
  
Bowman couldn't even contribute to the research; his ability to decipher human writing was woefully slow, and he would probably miss important details regardless. He sighed pensively, out of ideas. They needed to get Jacob back to his normal giant self, and fast.  
  


* * *

  
The ride was uneventful. Jacob remained in Sam's bag, finding it simpler than trying to climb out only to be rolled around in the pocket by every little movement. Despite feeling silly huddled in the satchel, he felt a lot more secure that way.   
  
Even if it meant he was stuck on Sam's lap while he dozed, fluffy brown bangs covering his eyes. He knew he was safe there, and that was more security than he’d had during any of his latest misadventures.  
  
A smirk suddenly came to his face as Jacob thought about the younger sprites that would crawl into his hoodie pockets. Invariably one of them would curl up and fall asleep in there. It was kind of funny that now he was the one all but pocketed by Sam, and Sam was the one falling asleep.  
  
When the Impala finally quit moving and the rumbling growl of her engine cut off, Jacob looked up at the opening of the pocket. It seemed Dean had reached the motel once more. Hopefully, once they were back behind that door, things would quiet down for the group, at least long enough to make some kind of progress. Jacob didn't want to admit it, but he'd be even more useless than he'd already been. His middle ached and he really just wanted to rest.  
  
By the time Dean’s swaggering stride had returned them to the safety of the motel room, Sam had woken up, blearily blinking his hazel eyes at Jacob for a moment of confusion before the events of the last hour came back to him in a rush. With a groan, he buried his head in his hands, trying to scrub away the exhaustion that struck after the terror in the library.  
  
This time, Sam didn’t bother getting Jacob out of the satchel at all. When Dean’s hand slipped in, he just hitched it back over his shoulder, hefting the smaller hunter as easily as a school backpack. He clambered up the callused fingers, punching at the lifeline he was crouched on to let Dean know they were ready.  
  
All the while, Jacob clutched at the edges of the bag to keep himself steady as they moved, and huddled into it to avoid jostling around. It was like being on the most bizarre swing he'd ever encountered. He was practically curled into a ball just for stability.  
  
As the hand ascended, Sam tightened his grip on his bag, trying to keep it from swaying at his side. He didn’t succeed completely, but it helped some of the motion for Jacob. They were lowered back down to the tabletop, which now had a massive stack of library books on it to keep the old Dell laptop company.  
  
His legs still wobbled slightly after the swinging pocket ride and the previous scare, so Sam knelt down to put his satchel down on the table, offering Jacob a hand in getting out of it. Jacob took it with a mutter of thanks and extracted himself from the bag.  
  
Once back on the table, Jacob couldn't help but stare at the stack of books. It was huge. Bowman had decided to land on top of them for the time being, surveying the picture on the front cover of the top book. From the looks of things, they had a lot of material to get through. Jacob might as well be looking at a high rise or a warehouse.  
  
He stretched his arms over his head cautiously, working some tension out of them while also wary of overextending his ribs. They flared up briefly and he winced, but Jacob imagined that was just his normal for now. That kid had pinched him pretty hard, doing no favors for the healing bruises. At least he hadn't broken anything. Jacob slid his hands into his hoodie pockets then, looking up at the stack of books and thinking it looked like an accurate representation of the walls they kept hitting.  
  
"Wish I could help," Jacob mused with a faint smile. "But I gotta feeling most of the pages weigh more than me." Not to mention, with his injuries, turning them would be a painful ordeal. It wouldn’t be worth the effort.  
  
Sam waved him off. “No one’s expecting you to try and read books bigger than your house,” he said reassuringly.  
  
Bowman hopped down with a flutter of his wings, stumbling. He sat down near Jacob, letting his wings splay out on the table behind him. "You need to rest anyway. Your little ride in the satchel wasn't enough time to recuperate," he teased. Jacob rolled his eyes.  
  
“We’ve got this covered. You just try and keep Bowman distracted,” Sam gave Bowman a broad grin, knowing Dean was just as much a culprit as the sprite, “from getting in anyone’s hair.”  
  
"Hear that, Bowman, I'm supposed to keep you distracted," Jacob quipped as he sat down on the table next to the sprite. Bowman shifted his scathing look from Sam down to Jacob, but the human just shrugged. "Them's the breaks," he teased, amused at how Bowman was caught off guard by the phrase. He probably didn't understand it but once again didn't want to ask for clarification.  
  
"I don't need to be distracted, I know not to bother anyone," Bowman insisted, only getting a chuckle from Jacob for his defensiveness. He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. His wings twitched in annoyance, drawing Jacob's gaze for a moment. They were so big, even compared to Bowman. They might as well be huge tents to Jacob.  
  
Soon, Sam was buried back in the same book on ancient fae pranksters, a possibility that was becoming more and more likely the more he thought about it. After setting Sam up, Dean excused himself from the table. He stood next to the door, calling Bobby from where he could talk in a normal volume without having to worry about deafening anyone. Their muttered conversation was a background noise as Sam worked on turning pages that were probably bigger than his bedroom.  
  
Occasionally Dean would peer out the window, pulling the shade just enough to see out so he could survey the parking lot while he talked. It was disheartening to glance over at the table and see Jacob, his form so small that Dean couldn’t even make out his arms and legs from so far away, so he focused his attention outwards.  
  
After the call, he strolled back over to the table and took a seat. At Sam’s probing gaze, he gave a small shrug. “He’s on it,” he informed them. There wasn’t much else to tell.  
  
Before Dean could get too involved in his own book, Jacob finally noticed one pain in his middle that stood out from the others. "Hey, uh Dean? Don't mean to derail you here but is there any food left? Being a badass action figure left me a bit starving."  
  
Dean glanced up, his eyes locking onto Jacob for a moment before the request sank all the way in. “Uh, yeah. There’s plenty leftover.” He wrinkled his nose. “We’ve got salad, some fruit and Fritos.” He winked. “Your favorite.”  
  
Leaning out of the chair, he snagged the bag of Fritos from the plastic bag he’d gotten from the Gas ‘N Sip, then grabbed the remains of the salad from the fridge. He popped open the bag of chips, putting it down not far from Bowman and Jacob, and left the salad with them as well. “Go nuts,” he told them dryly even as he left a bottlecap of water on the tabletop.  
  
Even if he was inclined to snack on salad and chips, Dean’s stomach turned over at the thought of eating again after what had happened the night before. Any haze that had been over his mind from the drink had been dashed away by the frightening discovery of the struggling form of one of his best friends in his mouth. He shoved away any thought of food, determined to read up on everything he could and get Jacob back to normal.  
  
Jacob's eyes brightened at the sight of a bag of Fritos the size of a cabin. "Ah, hell yeah," he said, going to stand. A hand on his shoulder stopped him, before Bowman stood himself. He knelt to retrieve one of the shamelessly awesome chips from the bag, looking at it critically in his hands and looking back at Jacob. It was easily half Jacob's length, and Bowman was holding a broken one.  
  
Bowman, with only a little difficulty, broke off a more manageable piece of the strange food, kneeling to hand it to Jacob. It was plenty for him to start with. What would be a few bites to Bowman or Sam would hold Jacob over for a while. "Don't inhale it," he warned with a smirk.  
  
"Oh, I'll do my best, but Bowman, you only gave me a crumb," Jacob quipped back, looking regretful. Then, he grinned and started nibbling on the food, finding that it brought nearly instant relief to his hunger.  
  
Bowman brushed off his hands to get rid of the salt on them before going to the salad container. He stood on the tips of his toes to reach in and grab a shred of lettuce leaf. Since he'd gotten sun that morning, he was not as desperate for something to eat as Jacob. He returned to sit near Jacob to work on his lettuce while the human enjoyed his "crumb”. Jacob tried to hide it, but he had been hungrier than he let on. All of the excitement plus waking up hungover had made it easy to forget that he needed to eat.  
  


* * *

  
Once the research was in full swing and their food was eaten (Jacob didn't have any more chips, begrudgingly letting Bowman bring him a shred of spinach instead), the two of them had little more to do than wait. At one point, Bowman's wings were twitching so much that Jacob suggested he go ahead and fly around the room to let off some energy. The sprite easily took that advice, wheeling around restlessly. His aerial acrobatics were quite entertaining most of the time, though Jacob was immensely glad that Bowman hadn't tried any of those maneuvers while he was tied to him.  
  
Later on, Bowman had to dodge a surprise projectile, a small ball of paper crumpled up and flicked at him by Dean, seeking a momentary reprieve from the constant tedium of research. Bowman, naturally, was easily riled up by this action and retaliated by retrieving the paper and lobbing it right back at the human, much to Jacob's entertainment.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes as Dean, a mischievous glint in his eyes, snatched the paper right out of the air, snapping it back at Bowman before the sprite had time to recover from his own throw. Bowman lucked out this time, the shot going wide and missing by a good few inches.  
  
With a frown, Sam glanced over at Dean.  _That's not like him,_  he fretted to himself. Bowman hadn't even been moving, an easy shot, and Dean had  _missed._  
  
"Are you alright?" Sam asked his brother worriedly. "You look a little pale."  
  
Dean tried to wave it off. "I'm fine, Bowman must have knocked it off with the wind from his wings."  
  
That attempt worked on Sam the way it normally did. That is, not at all. He crossed his arms, stubbornly staring up at Dean. "When's the last time you ate?"  
  
"What are you, my mother?" Dean griped. "I told you, I'm fine!"  
  
Jacob turned his head to see the defiant look on Dean's face. He noticed right away that Dean  _did_  seem kind of pale. He almost would have believed the comment about Bowman knocking the paper off course with his wings, but Sam's concern got Jacob thinking. Dean, like the rest of them, hadn't eaten anything since the night before. And he ... hadn't exactly held onto that very long. He had to be starving by now.  
  
"Woah, dude," Jacob joined in, "You should have some of this bag. Not like I'll make it through all of them in this century," he suggested with a wave towards the bag of Fritos. Jacob had had a crumb, and Bowman had tried an even smaller piece, disapproving of the salt immediately. There was plenty leftover.  
  
Bowman flitted closer, concerned himself. After all, humans couldn't get energy from the sun like he could. It was doubly important that they eat enough or they could run themselves right out of energy. That kind of exhaustion was no good for anyone.  
  
Dean tried to glare at all of them, but it didn't work while being ganged up on from three different directions. Sam on his own was bad enough. "I'm  _fine,_ " he repeated stubbornly, digging in his heels from sheer cussedness. "I'm just... not hungry, alright?"  
  
His stomach disagreed with him, grumbling in aggravation. Dean glared downwards, annoyed with the internal betrayal of his stubborn stance.  
  
 _Traitor._  
  
The glare thankfully passed by quickly. If it had lingered, Jacob might just have backed down. That glare was potent enough to make Jacob think twice about pursuing a subject with Dean even when he had a few inches on the guy. This time, the topic wasn't something anyone could easily brush off.  
  
Jacob thought he could guess why Dean might be refusing to eat. Jacob himself had been squeamish about the thought, way in the back of his mind, until the food was actually in his hand. Dean needed to eat, whether he wanted to dig his heels in or not. If he didn't, he risked getting dizzy at the worst time.  
  
"Dean, c'mon, dude," Jacob began gently, pushing himself to his feet. He walked a few steps towards the irate hunter and stood his ground, glare or no glare. Jacob rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and glanced over his shoulder at Bowman and Sam before looking back up at Dean. "You guys are all I got right now ... And I'd feel pretty shitty if you ran yourself ragged working too hard on my account. You should eat something, man."  
  
Dean paused at that, surprised at Jacob's insistence, considering where Jacob had almost... He pushed that train of thought away, knowing it would lead him away from any progress he'd made. It hadn't happened and it  _wouldn't_  happen, and that was that.  
  
Sam drove the final nail in the coffin of his stubborn resistance. "Dean," he said gently, sitting on the edge of his book with his legs dangling off. "None of us can drive the Impala. If you run yourself into the ground, we'll be helpless. Please, just eat something." His eyes, even as small as he was, were wide and round, staring up at Dean beseechingly.  
  
The annoyance around Dean dissipated as he gave in. "Whatever," he muttered. "I don't remember signing up for three babysitters on this job." He snagged the bag of Fritos, lifting it clear over Bowman and Jacob before digging in. "Happy?"  
  
Sam gave him a ghost of a smile. "I'm not unhappy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between Dean and a crew of smols, who would win?
> 
> The smols, of course.
> 
> **Next:** December 31 st 2017 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	30. Survival

Jacob grinned, though he made a point to avoid watching Dean eat. He may have insisted on it, but that didn't mean the thought wasn't still unsettling to him. He was just relieved that Dean had been convinced against starving himself. Even if research didn't drain him that much, the guy would have gotten dizzy eventually, and that would spell disaster for the smaller folk on the table.  
  
Bowman flickered his wings before folding them to his back as he stepped up to the salad container. He helped himself to another shred of spinach leaf, recalling briefly that it was the same kind of leaf Jacob had given him while he was a prisoner under a vase. "You and your dramatics. Thank the Spirit though, 'cause imagine the earthquake if you passed out!"  
  
Dean scoffed between bites. "It's starting to feel like I have my own personal peanut gallery," he snipped as he ate. Oddly enough, he didn't get sick from the first few bites, though he doubted he'd be able to get far into the bag before his stomach went back to rebelling. It did help that Jacob had insisted, considering Dean had assumed Jacob wouldn't want to be anywhere near him while eating or drinking.  
  
Jacob thought he did well hiding how unsettling it felt to be nearby while Dean ate chips bigger than he was. He wasn't going to voice a complaint or show any discomfort, because he had insisted on it and Dean keeping himself somewhat healthy was more important. Even though every crunch sent a chill racing up his tiny spine.  
  
Dean grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge. He was definitely thirsty. He managed to down most of the bottle (keeping an eye on Jacob at the same time) before he dropped it down.  
  
Jacob stepped back from where the tower of clear plastic landed. At least there was one advantage to being the smallest one there. When Jacob's eyes widened slightly at the sight of how much water Dean had gulped down in one go, no one noticed.  
  
Jacob knew what it'd feel like to be that water.  
  
He pushed the thought down before it could make his heart rate skyrocket. There was no point dwelling on that, since the unthinkable hadn't really happened. He was safe and mostly okay now. He needed to show that for his own benefit and for the others.  
  
Some of Dean’s normal snark was coming back to him. "Didn't we go over that I'm not  _that_  big for a human?" Dean asked, poking Bowman in the side. "I don't cause earthquakes if I fall over!"  
  
Jacob was pulled out of his faraway, terrifying thoughts when Bowman stumbled in surprise. Those vibrant green wings flared immediately, the sprite's typical threat display aimed upwards at the human. Purely for show, it made him seem bigger thanks to the large wings arching out from him on either side. Jacob stared up at them in fascination while Bowman had his glare aimed upwards at Dean.  
  
"Hey,  _watch it,_  giant!" Bowman groused, rustling his wings irritably. "You are plenty big for a human! You're over six feet tall!"  
  
"And don't you forget it, small fry," Dean shot right back, grabbing a few more chips in his hand. "It feels good to be the tallest."  
  
Despite his words, he didn't want to be the tallest anymore. He wanted their resident Sasquatch back as much as anyone else. He kept that in mind as he and Sam returned to the books, leaving Bowman and Jacob to amuse themselves while the day slipped into night. Bowman flew restlessly all over the room, occasionally remarking on how closed off it seemed. He returned to Jacob often, sometimes with a curious question about something he found. Bowman hadn't had much chance to really explore the last time they'd brought him to a motel room, courtesy of the vase Dean and Jacob had placed over him.  
  
During a break for Sam to eat, he sat next to Jacob for a bit, snacking on a tomato from his salad. Bowman took advantage of the day's last rays of sun, perching atop the curtain rod to catch the light with his wings, which draped over the side. The bag of Fritos was left in the middle of the table, half-eaten. Dean had done his best, but his stomach refused to let him eat too much, threatening to rebel against him like the night before.  
  
Eventually, they all settled down for the night, Jacob and Bowman exhausted from a dash of boredom and the leftover terror of the morning, and Dean and Sam from the overdose of research. Nothing had turned up in their examination of the books. Hopefully Bobby was having more luck with his own library.  
  
With Sam and Bowman on either side of Jacob, the three of them were fast asleep long before Dean. He gave a smile at the tiny, huddled forms as he clicked off the light. He might actually get some rest this time, since he wasn't collapsed in the corner from remorse and anger.  
  
Dean settled back, draping a hand over his chest from habit as sleep claimed him last of all.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob, with his "mini giants" on either side, found it surprisingly easy to drift off to sleep. Almost too easy, considering he would have thought the fears of the last twenty four hours might keep him up as he worked through them. The night before, he'd dropped off to sleep thanks to way too much alcohol and sheer exhaustion, but even now his brain didn't dwell too much on his experiences. He was drifting off even as Sam dragged him closer in another sleepy hug. Even if he cared to resist the action, he didn’t have the chance.  
  
His deep sleep was interrupted by a dream. A sigh of fresh-smelling air, like he was back in Wellwood, drew him into a comfortingly familiar scene. There was a white void all around him, just like the dream in which the Earth Spirit had contacted him along with Bowman and Sam and Dean. There was an almost serene feeling to the dreamscape. Jacob felt safe.  
  
He looked around, hoping to see the Lady of Life appearing somewhere nearby. She'd pierce the white void with a soft green light that formed the shape of a wood sprite so She could talk to him. Maybe She would offer him some healing after being so battered at this size. Even some advice on how to get better would be appreciated.  
  
Jacob would accept anything She had to offer at this point.  
  
When nothing happened for several seconds, Jacob shifted his feet on the floor of nothingness. He looked around some more, his brow dropping into a look of confusion. What was going on here?  
  
"H-hello?" he called tentatively. "Earth Spirit? ... Any Spirit? What's going on? Will you help me?"  
  
For long moments, the silence stretched out after his words, letting them echo away to nothing. The landscape became more foreboding.  
  
The nothingness under his feet faded into a wood grain, the lines and whorls easier to see at his current size.  
  
Dean's laptop suddenly loomed overhead, the way it was folded a reminder of how easy it would be for it to close down on him and crush the life out of him.  
  
An almost empty water bottle towered over him, a stark reminder that Dean had drunk almost the entire thing in one swig.  
  
Details assaulted him on all sides.  The tiny nicks and scratches in the laptop casing, the softball-sized droplet of water clinging to the side of the water bottle, and the haphazard pile of books pushed to the side of the table.  
  
From behind Jacob came a laughing, chuckling voice. "I was expecting this to be fun, but you… you brought it to a whole new level, Jakey-boy!" The voice drew Jacob out of his gloomy observations of the enormous objects on the table, and he whirled around to face the newcomer.  
  
It was as though he'd appeared out of nowhere. A shorter man strode out of the darkness, a smug smirk on his face to put Dean's to shame. His hair was swept back to look 'suave' and his eyebrows went up as he paced around the downsized hunter, sizing Jacob up.  
  
That nickname ...  _Jakey-boy_  ... rubbed Jacob the wrong way. Hell, the more he looked at the guy, the more about him rubbed Jacob the wrong way. It was like his face was tailor made for smirking. Those pale brown eyes were keen, sharp as tacks as they took in Jacob's bedraggled appearance.  
  
Jacob kept turning with him to keep the guy in his sights. The hair on the back of his neck rose and there was definitely a sense of some kind of trouble surrounding the guy. The car-salesman's hairstyle and the way those eyes regarded him so steadily was unsettling. It was like a lion stalking a gazelle.  
  
"Who ... who are you?" Jacob asked, opting for a more polite tone for the time being. It was really throwing him off to see another person at his drastically reduced scale. "What's going on here?"  
  
His gaze flickered only briefly to the dreamed up version of the book Sam had been reading for a good part of the day. Prankster fae. Was this little guy some kind of fairy? "Are you the one who did this?! What the hell do you mean 'fun?!’ Do you have any fucking clue what I've been through?" His voice rose as he spoke, an inexplicable irritation rising up in him at the sight of that calm smirk.  
  
The man shook his head remorsefully. "Oh, Jake. You're asking  _all_  the wrong questions here. Who  _I_  am doesn't matter. It's you guys," he pointed at Jacob, then mimed towards the bed in the distance at Dean's immense sleeping form, "that are important here."  
  
He leaned against a book, casually kicking up a leg and crossing his arms. "Did you know that  _you_  and  _Dean-O_  are the first humans in over a generation to actually manage to befriend little guys like Sam and Bowman? I mean, sure. Dean had a bit of a leg up there with Sam actually being his  _brother_ , but there have been other families in the past split by size like that and  _they_  never bothered with each other again."  
  
He snickered. "And by the way, yes, Jakey, it  _is_  fun. Trust me, when I left out that mushroom, I never expected you'd take  _another_  bite from it. You got Sam reading out of  _Alice in Wonderland_  while I'm in the corner playing  _Super Mario Bros._  Didn't anyone ever tell you that the mushroom is  _always_  poisonous?" He held his hands up to the hazy, dreamlike light, examining the fingernails and absently blowing on them. "I have to say, it adds a whole new level to the game that I never even dreamed about."  
  
There was a lot of information to take in. Jacob couldn't even be proud of the fact that he was one of the rare few friends of smaller folk like Sam and Bowman. His fucking life was being toyed with and this asshole was the culprit. Jacob's bruised ribs twinged as if in anger at the strange man.  
  
"Super Mario bro-- my  _life_  isn't a fucking game!" Jacob sputtered, his hands balling into fists. He wanted to punch the smirk right off that face, but refrained, just barely. "I almost  _died,_  you sick jackass! I almost got...." He trailed off, cringing.  _Eaten._  Like he was nothing.   
  
All because this guy got his rocks off messing with people.  
  
The man twirled his fingers in the air, conjuring up a lollipop from nothing. Popping it in his mouth, he assumed a concerned pose. "You haven't been paying attention very well then. Of  _course_  your life is a game.  _Everyone's_  life is a game. And the name of the game?" His brown eyes bored their way into Jacob.  
  
"Survival."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter the mystery
> 
> Antagonist proudly written by nightmares06
> 
> **Next:** January 3 rd 2018 at 9pm.


	31. Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

Jacob's angry scowl shifted into surprise. The guy had merely been aloof until that point, like he thought everything he said was just the most hilarious thing. His last statement left no room for joking. He was deadly serious, emphasis on ‘deadly.’ If Jacob wasn't careful, he'd die at this size, and he had a million things to be careful for-- many of which he didn't even know about. It'd be like playing poker without looking at his cards.  
  
"Survival?! So that's it? You're getting your jollies waiting around for me to die like this?" Jacob bristled at the thought. He was being toyed with. Nothing more than an object for this ... whatever-he-was's amusement. Just a plaything.  
  
That line of thinking reminded Jacob of something. " _You're_  the one who snapped his fingers and sent me across the library!" he blurted, taking a surprised step towards the guy. "What the hell are you doing messing with my odds like that? Things are stacked against me already, Dean can't even  _feel_  me!" He waved a hand in the vague direction of the sleeping titan. The one who nearly mistook Jacob for a bit of food and swallowed him down without a second thought. Jacob's fists trembled from being clenched so tightly.  
  
The man smirked again. He strolled casually around Jacob, forcing the human to turn with him to keep his eyes on the unknown stranger. "Lessons don't come cheap, bucko. How do you think Bowman felt when he thought you and Dean would eat  _him?_  Not to mention the fact that he almost got eaten by a wolf  _helping_  you two chuckleheads. And spry little Sammy. Even I've got to admit, the kid's got style. But what's the  _first thing_ that'll happen to him if a kid spots him?"  
  
Crossing his arms, he shook his head ruefully. "You and Dean  _think_  you understand, but until you're down here with them, it just isn't the same.  
  
"Oh, and, that thing with Dean last night? I might have given just a bit of a nudge and kept Dean from noticing you a little longer than normal. After all, can't have him ending the lesson early, am I right?"  
  
 _Only Dean calls him Sammy,_  was on the tip of Jacob’s tongue, but the last revelation ground him to an abrupt halt with his mouth open in shock. This guy, whoever he was, had  _prolonged_  Jacob's terror. Jacob's mouth clamped shut and he stiffened, unable to stop the memories from rushing back to him.  
  
Dark. Hot. Humid. No air. A whirlpool of beer. A gaping abyss hanging over his death while his friends never knew. No air. Too hot. Up and down are the same. No  _air._  
  
 _Helpless._  
  
Jacob got why the guy had mentioned Bowman now. The sprite was a prey species; he always worried in the back of his mind that some predator might find him and he wouldn't be fast enough to evade his fate. He'd even thought Jacob and Dean would be the predators to do him in, once upon a time. Because of the events of the night before, Jacob now harbored a similar fear. He could hardly stand being near Dean while the guy ate or drank without thinking about where he'd almost ended up. How easily he’d almost ended.  
  
"You piece of shit," Jacob hissed. "Dean was gonna starve himself over that! He thinks it's all his fault but it was  _yours!_ "  
  
Messing with Jacob was one thing. He had a lot more patience to tolerate the stupid nicknames and the baiting comments. Screwing with Dean's head and making him feel like shit just to make things  _worse_  for Jacob?! Before he even knew it, Jacob was throwing a punch at that smirking face, hoping he might send that stupid lollipop down the guy's throat while he was at it.  
  
The moment the punch would have made contact, the man vanished, his smirking smile the last part to fade from view. Not expecting that, Jacob flailed briefly in surprise.  
  
Before he lost his balance, two huge fingers expertly pinched his hoodie, yanking him backwards and hauling him off the table to dangle in front of two Jacob-sized eyes. The man, now on the same titanic scale as Dean, rocked back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the table. "Jake, Jake, Jake... you've got me all wrong." He shook his head with regret as Jacob swung precariously in front of him.   
  
Cracking the lollipop in his mouth, he went on as he chewed noisily. "I'm  _rooting_  for you, kid! I like you guys. But Dean has his own lessons to learn, and no one said things would be easy. Short lessons never stick. Ever since you found Sammy running from you with a cracker... the only food his family could find that week. The poor guy thought you'd take him away from his family, make him lose his life all over again. He didn't even think he'd get to keep the  _cracker_. It's time for a little  _perspective_ for you, a bit of understanding of how things really are for them."  
  
The  _crack_  of a piece of hard candy bigger than his whole body echoed in Jacob's ears. He couldn't help a shudder. He was so close to that mouth that he could feel a rush of air with every word the man spoke. The sickly sweet smell of that decimated candy almost made him gag.  
  
He was trapped with his hoodie pinched between two fingers. The sleeves pulled up his wrists and the hem was hitched way up, revealing his shirt underneath. With the hoodie digging in under his arms, he could already feel an ache in his shoulders. Jacob couldn't even risk kicking or he could plummet. He didn't have good faith in this guy's ability or motivation to catch him if he fell.  
  
Even as he stared at gigantic eyes, Jacob was forced to think about a time when he stared down at the tiniest hazel eyes he'd ever seen. How he had felt but  _completely ignored_  Sam's best struggles against fingers the length of his body. Jacob had trapped Sam as easily as breathing, and the terrified expression on that tiny face hadn't even slowed him down. His own curiosity made any distress invisible to him.  
  
Even when he was no longer trapping the guy and freely giving him food, Sam had been so scared. He'd apologized for every little thing, trivial things that Jacob laughed off. Sam was _terrified_  of Jacob getting angry at him and changing his mind. Trapping him again.   
  
And that didn't even take into account Jacob grabbing him and moving him to the floor. Even something Jacob thought was  _helpful_  had only been a point of fear for Sam.  
  
A reminder of his lack of control over his own life so long as he was near a human.  
  
If Jacob's stomach hadn't already been in turmoil from listening to the man chew on his candy, it would have started, because even after Sam reassured Jacob just that morning that he was forgiven, it was hard not to be discouraged when his mistakes were thrown in his face. Now he was at the same disadvantage as Sam. This man had all of the control and Jacob had none of it. He could put Jacob down, or he could drop him, or he could even toss Jacob in to join that candy-- he cringed from a particularly loud  _crunch_ \-- and Jacob would have no influence over what decision the man made.  
  
"S-so, what then," Jacob asked, one small glimmer of defiance still in him. "I get all this ... 'perspective' and you keep trying to get me killed? I have to survive this shit until, what, you get bored and just off me? Or are you just gonna leave and I'm stuck like this?" If this guy was going to be screwing with Jacob's odds, he did not see himself managing to survive. Even Sam and Bowman weren't small enough that an errant sigh could knock them over.  
  
"Oh, you haven't even  _begun_  to get the perspective they've been forced to live with their whole lives. But," the man sat up, swallowing down his candy. Jacob had to look away. It was bad enough hearing the action with a frightening kind of familiarity. He didn't need to see as the enormous throat shifted right in front of him. He swung dangerously as the guy sat up, finding himself dangling well over the hard surface of the table, and there was no question that he'd break his legs if he fell that far.  
  
His tormentor continued. "Tell ya what. We're playing a game here, remember? And every game can be won, otherwise there's no fun in playing. If  _you_  survive, and everyone learns their lessons along the way, you'll be back to Sasquatch-size in no time. If you lose..."   
  
He laughed. "Well, then you lose. Any questions?"  
  
The callous laughter shook through Jacob and he clamped his hands over his ears. Then, the man's challenge reached him and he looked back at those keen brown eyes in surprise. "I can ... " he trailed off, hardly believing it. He knew that maybe he  _shouldn't_  believe a word this guy said. Jacob really could be stuck this way. But if he wasn't ...  
  
"Well, what about Sam?! He's been surviving over a decade like this! Maybe I've been a shit and deserve what you're doing but he was just a kid, there's no way he earned it. Can't you fix him, too?"  
  
The man shook his head even as the question was voiced. "Would that I could. He'd probably make quite a splash if he got back to normal. Have you seen him arm wrestle? That kid could bench Hulk Hogan if he wanted to."  
  
His eyes flashed over to the nightstand, where Sam and Bowman's forms could just barely be made out. "No, unlucky little Sammy has a cursed soul. He won't be seeing eye to eye with any humans, anytime soon. You should be thankful I didn't use  _that_... witch's... curse, especially considering its... permanence. Considering that you got yourself stuck at almost a fourth of what I had planned."  
  
He held up a hand, fingers ready to snap. "You have sweet dreams now," he finished with a wink. The grip on Jacob loosened right when the loud  _snap!_  filled the air.  
  
The echoes of that snap and the stomach-clenching sensation of freefall lingered when Jacob sat bolt upright, a yelp of alarm dying on his lips as he escaped his dreams. He sat there panting, letting his brain and his heart come to some kind of agreement after the brief panic.  
  
The mysterious man's words came crashing back to him and Jacob turned where he sat, reaching out a hand to shove at Sam's chest and wake him. "Sam, wake up, I just--"  
  
Sam wasn't there.  
  
Jacob recovered from nearly tipping himself over, his eyes widening in the dark. Sam wasn't there? He could have sworn the guy dragged him back into a solid, inescapable hug. Jacob waved his hand in the dark, trying to find him and wondering if he'd rolled over.  
  
Jacob turned to check his other side. There was no shadowy shape of Bowman there either.  
  
Jacob's sleepy mind was clinging so hard to memories from the dream that he was having trouble catching up to anything else. He rubbed his eyes with a groan, willing them to adjust to the darkness. It was one thing for Sam to be gone; he would believe the guy got up to go to the bathroom or something. But Bowman, too? Jacob got a sinking feeling.  
  
Then he realized with a jolt,  _everything_  was sinking.  
  
Jacob was  _actually_  sinking. He scrambled, fighting his sleepy limbs and aching ribs. He got to his feet just as whatever surface he was on stopped falling and began to rise instead.  
  
The same steady pace as before, but rising.  
  
 _Where ...?_  
  
That was the moment the sounds around him became crystal clear. A rush of air all but roared beneath his feet, echoing all around him. Jacob even  _felt_  the air that passed him by as the surface sank again.  
  
The realization crept up on him with a steadily rising dread.  
  
 _Shit, I'm ... I'm on Dean's chest!_  Jacob whirled around, and sure enough, in the soft moonlight that streamed past the blinds, was the silhouette of Dean's head, tilted to the side so the angle of his jaw was partially obscured. He wasn’t moving and showed no signs that he’d noticed, but that wasn’t news.  
  
Jacob blinked rapidly to adjust. Yes, there was the underside of Dean's chin, his nose, the faintest sign of his spiked hair. Jacob couldn't see the hunter's eyes from this angle but knew instinctively he was asleep from the peaceful, steady rhythm of his breathing.  
  
He took a few hesitant steps forward, uncertain on the terrain of a thick, flannel shirt over the uneven surface of a steadily breathing,  _massive_  chest. He needed to be closer to try and wake Dean. The guy would never hear him otherwise.  
  
It was then that his foggy and sleep-deprived mind chose to remind him of key memories in the past.  _Essential_  memories. He needed to stop and think.  
  
He remembered Bowman, fluttering and pissed off, stuck in Dean's fist after he woke the hunter and got grabbed by pure reflex. Dean hadn't even woken fully until after he'd caught the sprite, reflexes guided by the hunter instinct that was ingrained into his mind after over a decade of hunting.  
  
He remembered Sam, throwing the most scathing bitchface as he recounted the same thing happening to him once. Dean had complained it wasn't  _his_  fault Sam had used his nose as a punching bag. Sam hadn’t stood a chance to get out of the way before a hand descended on him and snatched him up.  
  
Dean was at least used to Sam's weight. When he reflexively grabbed Sam or Bowman upon waking up, he knew not to crush them in his hand. His hunter instincts demanded he neutralize a potential threat, but at the same time his big brother instincts were always there to prevent him from doing more than immobilizing (and annoying) the source of his waking.  
  
Jacob, little more than a third their size, might not be so lucky.  
  
Even a careful grab like that could do some damage if Dean was still half-asleep. And that was  _if_  he decided to grab.  
  
Jacob was so small that if Dean took notice of him, he might not fully awaken. He might see the tiny disturbance that Jacob could make as a tickle, a flutter down near his stomach, a bug to swat without ever waking up. That alone would end Jacob’s life in an instant, too small to escape a hand that could flatten cars without breaking a sweat.  
  
Waking up a sleeping giant was  _not_  a good idea.   
  
Jacob looked around, wondering what might be the best route for climbing off of Dean and getting a safe distance away. He could figure out how to get back to the nightstand and let Sam or Bowman consider how to wake up the titan, if at all. They weren't bug-sized, at least.  
  
After a moment spent getting his bearings, he saw he was near the bottom of the immense ribcage. Considering the nightstand and help was on Dean's other side, he'd need to travel over more of the giant.  
  
His mind made up, Jacob started to stumble towards the nightstand, inching down the chest towards the stomach. Hopefully there he would go unnoticed on top of the thick skin. While he traveled, the slow and steady rhythm of Dean's breathing continued on, contrasting with Jacob's rising panic and need to  _get out of the way._  
  
And then, on tired feet that were dragging more and more, he tripped. A fold in the thick fabric remained hidden until the last second, and at his size, Jacob couldn’t push it out of the way by walking into it. He fell, barely catching himself on his hands and knees.  
  
The ground under him started to rumble.  
  
 _Fuck_.  
  


* * *

  
Dean grumbled in his sleep, his eyelids fluttering open briefly in the chill air of the motel room. Wondering what had woken him, his eyes briefly wandered over to the nightstand. " 'ammy?" he mumbled.  
  
When he spotted the still, sleeping form of his little brother curled up on the nightstand next to Bowman with the extra-small Jacob presumably curled between them, he smiled. Settling back down, he let himself sink back into his pillows, absently scratching at a flutter near his stomach. Dean yawned, slowly passing back into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone up for a lolly? 
> 
> **Next:** January 3 rd 2018 at 9pm.
> 
> **NOTE:** There will be a blog/story update hiatus from January 25 th to February 3rd! Brothers Apart will be the only story that posts during that time, and all excerpts/asks will be paused for the duration. 
> 
> If anyone is looking for night or neon during those weeks, we'll be very deeply involved with **Monster Hunter: World** for the duration.


	32. A Cacophonous Lullaby

The sound of grumbling started as a tremor that shook through Jacob from where he'd fallen, skidding all the way onto the massive stomach.  _Shit, no ..._  He tried to scramble up even as Dean mumbled sleepily to himself. Jacob stood, his arms out for balance, and looked towards Dean's face. It felt like it was a soccer field's length away. At least.  
  
But, not that Jacob was too surprised at this point, Dean didn't notice him standing there. The half-asleep Winchester turned his huge head to the side, probably checking on Sam, an automatic reaction for the big brother in Dean. Jacob had seen it before. Then the unaware titan settled himself down, shifting his body in small motions that were probably nothing to him as he got comfortable.   
  
Each of those small movements was like an earthquake to Jacob. Massive muscles beneath his feet moved as they tensed or relaxed with the titanic movements under Dean's casual control. The ground he walked on shifted side to side or up and down, and inertia nearly sent Jacob toppling several times.  
  
He was about to grin and be proud of himself for not falling over. After all, Jacob hadn't even managed to keep himself steady in Dean's pocket without Sam's help. So when Dean was done settling back down to sleep and his breathing began to once again even out, Jacob figured he was in the clear.  
  
And then a dark shape loomed over him, eclipsing his view.  
  
Jacob's jaw dropped as Dean's hand blindly approached, lazy fingers outstretched right in his direction. They sluggishly dipped towards him, looking like enormous tree trunks in the dark. Jacob already felt the heat radiating off of the hand as it loomed closer and closer.  
  
He managed to bolt out of the way just in time, recovering from his frozen shock in the last instant. He had to get off Dean's stomach  _now_  before the guy actually noticed him there and decided to slap him away. There was no way Jacob would survive something like that.   
  
Surviving all this crap was the only way he had a chance of returning to normal. Whether or not the stranger was lying, he couldn’t do anything about his predicament if he was dead.  
  
The fingertips landed barely more than an inch behind him, shaking him with the impact. But he'd managed to avoid it. He was out.   
  
As he went to make good on his escape, the shirt was yanked out from under him, dragged backwards by the force of Dean simply itching. Jacob fell flat on his face and scrambled as he was drawn backwards while Dean absently scratched at his stomach, the only sign that he'd noticed Jacob's presence at all.  
  
He was just a tickle, no more. Nothing for Dean to even bother  _looking_  at while he itched.   
  
Jacob looked over his shoulder and saw the fingertips lifting and moving forward to repeat the motion, all automatic reactions as Dean slept. He scrambled to his feet, narrowly avoiding being crushed beneath them.  
  
This time, the scratching was stronger and more insistent. The surface beneath him, Dean's stomach, gave a little more under the pressure as the massive fingers moved. Jacob toppled backwards, too close to escape this time even as the shirt was rumpled around him. He smacked into one of Dean's knuckles before tumbling between the fingers, rolling to a stop right under Dean's hand.  
  
Running directly away from the gigantic fingers wasn't panning out for him. As they moved back and forth, agitating the fabric of Dean's shirt even more, Jacob would just be knocked back and forth. Dean's sluggish hand surrounded him like a cage, the palm arched directly over his head and the fingers walling him in.  
  
Jacob started to crawl towards Dean's thumb, hoping to sneak past it and escape that way. He heard a rush of air and a restrained groan as Dean yawned above, and knew he had a very narrow window of time to do so. He scrambled for purchase on the constantly moving fabric, trying to escape the immense hand looming close over him.  
  
The constant back and forth motion of the hand had rolled him over so many times that up and down seemed to collide. He knocked into the gigantic fingers only to roll away from them and get caught between folds of fabric before sliding right back into the line of fire again.  
  


* * *

  
As Dean's mind was overcome by sleep and dropped away from consciousness, his hand kept up the automatic motion for a few more moments, removing the slight itch that had drawn him away from his dreams long enough to check on Sam. Even if he could have felt Jacob moving down there, he wouldn't have thought anything of the slight shifting, almost like a breeze was moving the fabric of his shirt and tickling his stomach. The itching slowly started to die off, his hand settling right where he'd left it.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob was barely able to keep his legs out from under the heel of Dean's hand as it slowly, inevitably settled down. He had to fight a minor battle not to get crushed because his friend was absently scratching an itch. In the end, his reward was a gigantic hand settling on top of him even as a stifling heat cascaded over his small body. He could feel Dean's pulse in every bone, a relaxed thump that taunted him with how rested the giant that had inadvertently trapped him was.  
  
He pushed on the crumpled shirt beneath him, trying to make himself more room in his flat enclosure. Jacob might be small, but he didn't have a lot of room to move around under Dean's hand. He wriggled towards the thumb, pulling himself over folds in the shirt with weary desperation.  
  
He had a terrible angle on the digit, and even without that fact, just one section of it was almost as long as Jacob was. A joint of Dean's thumb would weigh more than he did. Ignoring the futility of the motion, he pushed against it anyway, his miniscule hands straining against the unforgiving pad of Dean's enormous thumb. His fingers slipped between the ridges of Dean's fingertip as he worked. The thick skin didn't even give from his weak pushing; it was too callused.  
  
Jacob shifted around, getting his arms beneath him. The thought that this endeavor was even more fruitless than the last hung over his head like a heavy shroud, but he stubbornly pushed upwards anyway.  
  
His back pushed on the palm above him for only a second before he collapsed back on the rumpled shirt with a  _whuff_  of pained breath escaping him. His ribs would not forgive him for a second attempt.  
  
"God dammit," Jacob muttered, shifting again. He could get an arm out through the tiniest gap left by the thumb, but that was it. He grasped a handful of thick shirt threads in a frustrated fist before drawing his hand back in.   
  
Already, it felt like he was ten degrees warmer in the stifling cave.  
  
" _DEAN!_  " he shouted, wincing when it hurt his sore chest. And, of course, his voice couldn't reach far from the hand. Not that Jacob expected any different, remembering the way Dean had difficulty hearing him from a few feet away when he  _knew_  Jacob was there and talking. He shouted a few more times to get it out of his system, until his aching ribs were pleading with him to stop. After one shout he had to cough painfully, and gave up on getting Dean's attention.   
  
He'd have to wait this out.  
  
Once again, Jacob found himself stuck and trapped in the dark by an unknowing Dean. At least he wasn't fighting against being swallowed alive. It could be worse.  
  
He thought too soon. There was a shudder beneath him as the ground quaked, accompanied by the loud echo of a gurgling stomach as Dean's food shifted. Less than three inches away from where he was trapped, half a bag of Fritos was being reduced to nothing more than a memory. And it wouldn't even be a pleasant memory, after the way they'd had to bully Dean into eating.   
  
Jacob's eyes widened and his own stomach clenched as he stared straight down, his mind envisioning exactly what was going on right below him. Jacob's hands curled into fists but he was unable to stem the disparaging thoughts that settled over him like a cloud heavier than even the hand pinning him down.  
  
 _That could have been me._  
  
The food digesting in Dean's stomach, mere inches away, was going through what would have killed Jacob just the night before. Broken down, burned away until there was nothing left of him, while his friends had no idea what agonies he suffered.  
  
And, just like that, the hazy memories flooded back into his head despite Jacob's careful efforts to keep them at bay.   
  
He was back in a whirlpool of liquid that stung his eyes and clouded his judgment. There was no way to know when that whirlpool would end, sent hurtling into an unavoidable abyss that waited patiently in the back as the current became a one way slide inexorably dragging him into the depths.  
  
He was battered against enormous teeth that would reduce him to nothing in a matter of seconds. They just had to realize he was there and nothing he did would stop it.  
  
He was hanging over a gaping abyss while his friend debated on whether or not to  _swallow him whole._  His life hung in the balance while Dean casually shifted him around like any other piece of food. If Jacob had been knocked unconscious, if he was too weak to struggle and force Dean to focus on what was  _right there_  in his mouth, it all would have ended right there and then with one easy  _flick._  
  
"No!" The blurted word accompanied frantic scrabbling against his enclosure, desperately trying to get out. Jacob had to get away from that sound, from the rumbling beneath him. He couldn't stand to be so close to it, with such a loud reminder of the gruesome end that could have been.  
  
He was no more effective than before. Jacob wriggled and shifted around to every potential avenue to freedom, but he was too weak to even budge Dean's pinky finger. Jacob lay down heavily, his eyes shut tight, and willed his terrified replay to stop. He was stuck, but he wasn't  _there._  He could do this.  
  
The stomach gurgled again. Jacob staved off the panic for one whole second this time, before the cycle began all over. Trying to get free, desperately pushing against a hand that couldn't even feel him there. The air was so stale. What fresh air leaked in was quickly gulped down by Jacob's ragged lungs.  
  
Each time the stomach beneath him gurgled, contentedly doing its job, Jacob's panicked struggles became weaker. More resigned. He even managed to doze off once or twice between the rumbles of everything beneath him and the stuffy heat he was trapped in.  
  
Until the noises in the stomach beneath him changed. Jacob's breath hitched as he realized what was new. It was a hollow,  _empty_  sound. A sound that chilled him to the bone. Jacob started to shiver when he realized that Dean was already finished digesting his meager dinner of Fritos and water. Dean was  _hungry._  
  
And then Jacob started wishing that they'd managed to convince Dean to eat more. Enough to hold that massive stomach over to the morning. Anything to spare him from listening to its yowls now.  
  
Jacob closed his exhausted eyes and shook each time the stomach below him growled. Like it was accusing him. Like it was royally pissed off that he'd gotten away. Escaped its designs for him.  
  
He couldn't sleep another wink through those sounds. Even if the stomach settled for a time, Jacob knew it was right there, aching for sustenance.  
  
He was plagued with thoughts of his fate if Dean's unconscious mind discovered Jacob huddled under his hand. If the hunter began sleep-eating, there was nothing Jacob could do to stop him. The massive hand would slowly tighten around Jacob, pinning him helplessly between tree trunk fingers that would keep him trapped no matter how hard he thrashed against them. He would be lifted up, dangling in midair as the hand began its ascent to Dean's mouth.   
  
His screams for Dean to  _please wake up_  would never reach him. Even if Jacob were loud enough, the man who shrank him would probably ensure Dean didn't wake.  
  
The huge cave would gape open as he hung there, helpless to do anything but watch.  
  
He could see it in his mind's eye. The pearly white teeth quiescent and welcoming. The fingers relaxing around his waist as he was dropped. He'd plummet, no way to change his trajectory no matter how much he flailed in the air, no way to escape the huge maw. Dropped in like no more than a piece of candy to enjoy.  
  
He might not get swallowed right away with Dean fast asleep and relaxed, but with his head tilted straight back, it would only be a matter of time. Trying to scramble up the steep slope, trying to escape out of the mouth even as the lips sealed him in... everything growing damp as the mouth watered, until he slid down far enough to trigger a swallow, the throat reflexively stealing him away.  
  
There would be no resisting it this time. Jacob would fall right to where the throat needed him to be to drag him straight down, and if he didn't, the tongue would be certain to give him a nudge along the way. With Dean asleep it would never know it was doing the wrong thing, guided by instinct alone. He'd disappear in seconds and no one would ever know. Swept down a gullet the length of a soccer field by relentless muscles only to end up imprisoned a few inches from where he was right now.  
  
Forever out of reach. Caught in a living cavern that only had one purpose, to nourish Dean, and Jacob was on the menu.  
  
And the worst part? Jacob wouldn't even be enough by himself to make the stomach stop growling. He'd be trapped where no one could hear him screaming in agony and terror. The beast that did him in wouldn't even be satisfied. He would just be something to whet Dean's appetite, maybe serve to wake him up just enough to realize he was hungry. He'd never hear Jacob's screams through a solid layer of muscle as he went to sate his hunger with an early morning snack. Jacob might find his brief imprisonment before he suffocated and died joined by masticated food far bigger than he was as the titan unknowingly buried his pupil in a forgettable snack that he might not even recall by the time the others woke and discovered Jacob was gone.  
  
And soon after that, the stomach would be empty once more. Demanding food all over again.  
  
With these horrifying thoughts in mind, Jacob lay shivering on what was otherwise an overly warm, decently soft surface. Forced to listen to the sounds that might have been the last thing he ever heard if Dean hadn't spit him out.  
  
Who needs nightmares with a lullaby like that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to feed the authors! Leave a comment to let us know what you think.
> 
> **Next:** January 10 th 2018 at 9pm.


	33. Who Am I to Disagree

At around 5 am, Sam rolled over, startling awake when his mind told him something was missing.  
  
Groaning, he rubbed his face with his hands, blinking blearily at the predawn light leaking in through the cracks in the window shades. He absently brushed a hand through his hair, straightening it out of habit as he tried to figure out what woke him up so early.  
  
The room was silent. On occasion he could hear Bowman’s wings rustle to one side as the sprite shifted in his sleep, and on the other side he could hear the rhythmic sound of the breeze created by Dean breathing. From outside the room, the early morning chirping of birds could be heard as they greeted the dawning sun, an occasional car rumbling by and disturbing their song. And…  
  
 _Wait, where’s Jacob…?_  
  
Sam bounced to his feet the moment he realized that Jacob, who’d been sleeping right next to him, had vanished. There was no sign of him in the folds of the shirt, no sign of him… Sam prodded at Bowman’s wings, trying to see if Jacob had slipped under there at some point during the night. He lifted the edge of a wing, managing not to wake the sleeping sprite.  
  
Nothing.  
  
“Jacob!” he hissed out loud, trying not to wake the others. It would be silly if he was panicking over nothing, like if Jacob was just stretching his legs. He’d never hear the end of it.  
  
When there was still no response, Sam began to really worry.  
  
“Jacob!” he called out louder, stepping away from the crumpled shirt and Bowman’s passed out form.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob's complete exhaustion and terrified shudders almost distracted him from the call. Then he realized,  _That's my name,_  and shifted towards the one opening near Dean's thumb.  _Sam's looking for me._  
  
"Sam," he croaked. He blinked heavily, his eyelids threatening to stay closed, but he knew that another noise from Dean's stomach would be on the way like clockwork, refusing to let him rest while it couldn't. Like it was taking petty vengeance on him.  
  
"Sam!" he called louder, though the weariness hung on the word like moss. "I'm over here!"  
  
Sam’s ears honed in on the small sound immediately, accustomed to listening for quiet scuffles in the dark after long years of living in the walls. If one could hear a rat or a spider coming, there was a far better chance of surviving the encounter, as he well knew. Walt had trained him well. They’d killed a few rats off together, working to keep the motel pest-free so the humans had no reason to ever call the exterminator.  
  
The voice was coming… from the bed?  
  
Sam wasted no time leaping the three inches that separated the bed from the nightstand, clearing the distance easily and clinging to the cover Dean was lying on. The hunter only slept under the covers on occasion. His larger body generated enough heat that he stayed warm most nights, a fact that left Sam jealous most days.  
  
He’d taken advantage of Dean’s pocket on occasion, and he was always surprised at how warm it was. Before being captured by Jacob and reunited with Dean, he could only imagine such warmth all the time. The only thing that came close in his life had been if he needed to pass near the hot water heater in the bowels of the motel.  
  
Now, Sam wasn’t thinking about the cold that always seemed to nip at him. He only wanted to find Jacob. “Where are you, exactly?” he called out, this time a bit quieter to avoid waking up Dean and getting himself snatched up off the bed. Until he knew where Jacob was and why he was there, Sam could take no chances.  
  
Jacob sighed with both relief and exasperation. There was no point in sugarcoating it. "I'm stuck ... under Dean's hand," he called back. He, unlike Sam, didn't see as much need to restrain his shouting. His voice was muffled enough by the hand pinning him down. He was too quiet to begin with, courtesy of having tiny lungs. The giant wouldn't hear Jacob calling out.  
  
At least once Sam helped him out of there he could explain everything that had happened, starting with that messed up dream and the warning about survival. Then he could  _sleep._  
  
Sam’s eyebrows shot up into his bangs as the information sank in. “His hand. You’re under his hand,” he echoed, his voice flat with disbelief. He shook his head.  _Time for questions later. Get him out first._  After all, Dean would be the first to say how much of a danger he was to the smallest hunter.  
  
The trek alongside Dean didn’t take long. Sam kept clear of his brother’s other arm the entire way. On some nights, Dean was a notoriously light sleeper, awake at a moment’s notice. On others, come hell or high water, Sam could never wake him up. His fallback was usually kicking Dean in the face out of frustration; sometimes it actually worked and woke him up, otherwise it was a great way to work out his annoyance with Dean being none the wiser.  
  
At least he’d never noticed any boot-shaped bruises by his nose.  
  
Once he was near Dean’s stomach, Sam easily hauled himself up, using the thick threads of the flannel shirt to climb. He saw the hand lying flat on the stomach, a thumb blocking most of Jacob from sight.  
  
Sam ran over, kneeling down next to the hand. “How in the world did you manage this one?” he asked, his voice saturated with disapproval.  
  
Bracing his knees, he wrapped his arms around the thumb, trying to budge the large digit that was almost the same size as he was. He gave a slight grunt when it shifted, shoving harder in place.  
  
Then  _swap!_  
  
Sam went sailing into the air, the surface of Dean’s stomach dropping down beneath his feet as the hand shifted, then instinctively grabbed him away. “Dean!” he cried out in surprise, praying Jacob hadn’t been caught in the unexpected movement.  
  
Dean didn’t respond, most likely still waking up and discovering he had a passenger in his hand. Sam thrashed against the fingers holding his arms and legs captive, praying he could get his brother’s attention before anything else went wrong.  
  
The huge hunter started to move, his body shifting as he sat up. His legs went to swing off the bed, pivoting in place.  
  
“ _Dean! Stop!_  ”  
  


* * *

  
Jacob was well aware of the size of Dean's hand alone after being trapped under it all night, but that didn't change the fact that seeing it move swiftly to wrap firmly around Sam's body and whisk him away with ease scared the crap out of him. He watched with wide eyes and a slack jaw as someone almost three times his own size was lifted bodily away, his surprised thrashing having no effect on his restraints.  
  
He quickly had to look down as the immense body beneath him shifted. Jacob's arms were trembling as he tried to push himself up, and his hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat. The rush of chilled motel room air finally hit him after the sweltering night trapped between a hand and a stomach, both of which were producing plenty of body heat.  
  
His weak movements wouldn't have been quick enough even if he were fully awake. Jacob rolled to the side when Dean turned, and then he tumbled backwards once as Dean sat up. Jacob's hands desperately grabbed at the shirt, trying to get a good grip on it before he was sent rolling right to the floor or onto the bed where any sweeping movement could crush him flat.  
  
He bumped past a hard plastic button half his own width. Jacob's desperate scrabbling managed to latch his hands on the edge, and with a groan of effort and a flare of complaint from his aching ribs, he hauled himself towards the thing so he could get his arms more securely around it.  
  
Curled the best he could and hugging that stupid button for all he was worth, Jacob shut his eyes tight and refused to look, just in case the vertigo made him lose his grip and fall.  
  


* * *

  
Dean scrunched his eyes open at the panicked sound of Sam’s voice.  _That’s not normal,_  his mind happily supplied, even as he continued to try and wake up all the way. Usually Sam was calm and patient, very rarely giving in to panic or desperation.  
  
That alone was enough to force Dean to wake up faster, eyes focusing on the struggling hunter in his grasp. “S-Sammy?” he managed, rubbing his face.  
  
Sam slammed a hand down on the fingers holding him the moment Dean relaxed his grip. “Dean!  _Jacob’s_  down there!” he snapped, pointing straight down.  
  
Those words had the same effect as an ice cold bucket of water. Dean’s free hand snapped out, flicking on the lamplight so he’d be able to see. There was a small black shadow, clutching desperately to a button on the front of his flannel shirt. Jacob was holding on for all he was worth, which was good since the former ground he’d been standing on had shifted into a towering vertical wall.  
  
It took Dean less than a second to process through all this information. His eyes went wide and his hand was immediately under Jacob, swooping him off the button. Jacob tumbled backwards into the palm as it was raised to Dean’s eye-level, right next to where Sam was still clutched.  
  
Dean opened the hand that had grabbed Sam, flattening it so his brother had a place to stand. Sam was on his feet in seconds, practically leaping over the small divide between the hands. Normally, Dean would complain about Sam’s unnecessary daredevilry and point out the fact that he could have just moved his hands closer together, but today it seemed like it could be shrugged off, all things considered. They needed to make sure Jacob was okay.  
  
Within seconds, both brothers were fully focused down on the tiny hunter getting to his feet on Dean’s palm. Sam grabbed Jacob’s shoulders, steadying him on the uneven ground. “Jacob, what were you thinking?” he asked, his voice full of worry. Jacob stared back at him in a daze.  
  
“You  _know_  I’m dangerous when I’m  _awake_ , Jacob!” Dean interjected, unable to hold back this time. What if Jacob had tumbled off his stomach to the floor? Or managed to fall on the bed when Dean was shifting in place? He could easily have died. Dean’s intense gaze was locked onto Jacob in a glare. That broke Jacob out of his trance and he nearly shrank back at the sight, but Sam’s hands remained on his shoulders.  
  
“If you needed Dean, why didn’t you just wake me or Bowman?” Sam questioned. “We’ve never had a problem with waking him, but he’d never even hear you, not to mention you could get crushed if you were grabbed like me. We want to keep you safe, but we need your help.”  
  
Jacob could barely stay standing on Dean's hand and he briefly wondered if it was only Sam's huge hands gripping his shoulders that kept him upright. Jacob was exhausted and he looked it. His eyes had dark circles under them, his hair was a bedraggled mess along with his clothes, and he still shook occasionally from cold or from simply being awake for far too long.  
  
And, he came to realize, he was incredibly annoyed.  
  
Jacob wasn't one to get overly grumpy about anything. He actually prided himself on his ability to refrain from snapping at people or actually getting angry. He was very chill by nature.  
  
But, he’d just endured most of a night completely trapped and helpless in a feverish space. He'd been forced to listen to something terrifying, the simple sounds of a stomach doing its job amplified all around him. After his experience nearly being swallowed, it was one of the most terrifying things he could think of. He'd spent his night with a pounding heart and several rounds of adrenaline keeping him awake.  
  
Even before that, he'd been tormented in his dream by the culprit behind his entire farce of an existence lately. He’d been dangled by his hoodie and taunted with his own mistakes. Then almost literally  _dropped_  into the bad situation that only just narrowly avoided becoming deadly for him.  
  
And Sam and Dean were  _scolding him?_  Dean even had a stern glare fixed on him, but Jacob’s intimidation faded in comparison to his growing annoyance.  
  
"Are you  _done?_  " he snipped, entirely unfazed by the stunned looks this earned him.  
  
He shrugged away from Sam's hands, glad that the bigger man allowed him to instead of tightening his grip on him. Jacob was fed up with everything, and being snapped at for something that wasn't his fault in any way was the straw that broke the camel's back.  
  
"You guys really think I got over here by myself?" Jacob pointed at the gap between the bed and the nightstand, and the fact that it was twice his own length. He may be learning a lot of new skills as a hunter, but making leaps that wide was not one of them. He pinched the bridge of his nose irritably, taking a good excuse to close his tired eyes for a second or two. There was a moment where the only noise was a rustling of a wing as Bowman shifted in his sleep, still blissfully unaware of anything going on.  
  
"I got snapped over here again because the jackass who did this to me decided an entire night without any sleep sounded like the jolliest fucking thing. I was trying to walk  _off_  Dean before something happened, I'm not an idiot. It's not my fault I'm only big enough to be a tickle and it's not my fault some weird bastard thinks it's funny to 'teach me lessons' and fuck around with my life. It's  _not my fault._ " His voice trailed off at the end of his rant and he crossed his arms sullenly. Jacob didn't care that he looked like a pouty kid. He  _felt_  like pouting after what he'd been through.  
  
Sam blinked in surprise at the sudden tirade, as startled as Dean. He shifted away, giving the smaller hunter a bit more space on the hand. “S-sorry, Jacob,” he managed to get out, suddenly reminded of all the times he’d apologized during that first time he’d met the other human. The situation couldn’t have been more different. Back then, Sam had gone with Jacob on a hope and a prayer, offered a chance to see his brother one last time. He’d hidden it, but that entire ride had been spent in fear, knowing that the laid-back human whose hoodie he was using to hide in could turn on him at anytime, with no consequences to himself.  
  
Now, he was apologizing for jumping to conclusions, for assuming that Jacob didn’t know what he was doing after being trapped at an inch and a half in height for over a day. If someone told him a year ago that this was where he’d be, he might laugh in their face.  
  
“We’re just worried for you, kid,” Dean’s voice came from overhead, his brow furrowed while his gaze remained locked on the small form. “We weren’t thinking clearly.” He’d only just woken up from a dead sleep, after all. His hand lifted up a little higher without even realizing it as the rest of what Jacob had said started to sink in. “Wait, you said someone’s trying to mess with you? ‘Teach you a lesson?’ ”  
  
Jacob's irritation dissipated with the question and he ran a hand back through his messed hair with a sigh. He still had news for them, even if he just wanted to lie down and sleep. He'd gotten the rant out of his system. They hadn't really  _earned_  it, even if the scolding was out of place. He knew they were looking out for him. Everyone was stretched thin.  
  
He cleared his throat before answering. "Yeah, I got a little visit right after everyone went to sleep." He massaged his temples, trying to alleviate the faint headache that had settled in after hours of struggling fruitlessly against a giant hand.  
  
 _What the hell, why not_  flickered across his mind before Jacob simply sat down, crossing his legs and leaning back on his hands. He had to look up at them anyway. Might as well be halfway comfortable while doing it.  
  
"It was a dream like with the Spirit, but not as awesome. Some jackass showed up and toyed with me and told me I have to gain perspective on how Sam and Bowman live every day." He glanced up at Sam, suddenly feeling that guilt creep up in him again. The mysterious man had brought the memory of that face in complete terror back to the fore of Jacob's mind. "Actually he said  _Dean_  had stuff to learn, too... said if I survived the game and everyone learned something he'd change me back to my size again. Then he dropped me on Dean to get his chuckles."  
  
Dean scowled at that. "Some asshat thinks dropping you on my stomach is going to  _teach_  us something?" he growled out angrily. "It's like he  _wants_  me to make one stupid mistake and get you killed!"  
  
It was like they were being toyed with, forced through any situation that could be dangerous to Jacob...  _or Sam and Bowman,_  Dean's mind reminded him. The events yesterday morning at the library could have ended badly for any of them.  
  
Sam frowned, but with thought. "You've already got plenty of perspective being small," he pointed out. "What else could he possibly want to teach you? Not even I ever had to live through those situations. And how's Dean learning anything from  _you_  being small?"  
  
Jacob shrugged and stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. How Dean could be learning from him being too small to even tell he was there was beyond him. He supposed maybe it was a lesson in being aware or more careful? Dean was doing his best. Everything that had befallen Jacob so far was confirmed to be part of that weird jackass messing around with them.  
  
"I dunno what his plan is there, he didn't say. But he's definitely messing with Dean, too. He told me he uh, made it ... tough for Dean to notice me. When I was. Y'know."  _In his fucking mouth._  "Whatever it is he said he'd change me back if I managed to live long enough. I dunno if my odds are very good with that shithead pulling the strings but I guess maybe I have a shot."  
  
Dean's face fell at the reminder. " _He's_  the reason I almost..."  _ate you..._  He tucked his head against his chest at that, thinking back to that moment, when it felt like everything he stood for crashed down around him upon seeing someone he was supposed to protect curled up in terror of him.  
  
"That  _sonovabitch..._ " Dean angrily spat. "He's _toying_  with us, the bastard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to feed the authors! Leave a comment to let us know what you think.
> 
> **Next:** January 14 th 2018 at 9pm.


	34. A New Lead

Sam inched forward, just enough to wrap an arm around Jacob to keep him steady. "We'll get you to the nightstand," he promised, "we just need to hear what else he said and then we'll let you rest. He said he'd turn you back to normal, if you live long enough?"  
  
Jacob nodded. "If I can learn what I'm supposed to learn  _and_  stay alive through all his messing around, then he'll lift the curse on me." He couldn't help but sound hopeful despite his exhaustion. Even though there wasn't that much reason to believe that guy was telling the truth, it was the only lead they had. A clue, given while he was dangling by nothing more than his hoodie while his tormentor crushed candy with his teeth and threw his biggest mistakes back at him, was still a clue.  
  
Something else came back to him out of the many inflammatory things the man had told him. Something about Sam, right near the end of the dream, dashing Jacob's hopeful questions to the ground while delivering the thinly veiled implication that Jacob could very well have shared the same fate.  
  
"He, uh. He mentioned  _your_  curse, too," Jacob admitted with some hesitation.  
  
The words  _at least there's hope_  died on Sam's tongue before he got them out. After a year of fruitless searching, that was the last thing he'd expected to hear out of Jacob. "He... he did?" Sam asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.  
  
Dean's head snapped up at that, almost jarring his hand in his own surprise. "He mentioned Sammy's curse? Is it like yours?" Hope, an almost alien emotion to Dean when Sam had been assumed dead, started to fill him again.  
  
Jacob's mouth was open, the bad news waiting on the tip of his tongue. He hadn't even had a chance to get to it before their hopeful questions slingshotted back at him. He glanced between the two brothers, suddenly wishing he hadn't groused so much at them only moments before. He was about to be the bearer of very bad news. News that would crash their world down over their heads and break the shard of hope they'd clung to since they'd reunited.  
  
"H-he uh. He told me I was lucky he didn't use the same curse. Said Sam's  _soul_  is cursed and made it sound like that's pretty permanent." An apologetic look was turned up towards Sam's face. Jacob hated being the one to tell him this. Hated that Sam had to find out about something like that this way.  
  
Matching expressions of hope quickly slipped to dismay at Jacob's next words. Sam's hand slid off Jacob’s tiny shoulder as he mulled over the words  _your soul is cursed_ over and over in his mind.  
  
Dean wasn't so quiet. His expression darkened at Jacob's words, and Jacob averted his gaze. "His  _soul_  is cursed? How's that even possible? I mean... even demons only buy your soul, they never actually do anything to it past taking it to Hell!"  
  
Sam swallowed. "Dean..." he said. "This isn't the worse that could happen. I'm  _used_  to being this size. I'm happy like this. It would be worse if Jacob was the one trapped instead. After all, he's too small for almost everything. I've got you and Bobby, and Jacob and Bowman looking out for me." He touched one of the fingers he was sitting near. "Don't worry about me."  
  
Dean's eyes blinked open, glassy. "But Sammy..."  
  
Jacob was glad that Sam's hand had fallen from his shoulder, so he could easily hide his shudder of intimidation. They didn't need that right now. He knew that glare hadn't been meant for him, only for the message he'd delivered. They were safe with Dean, but  _damn_  it was scary to have such an intense scowl aimed in his direction for even a second.  
  
He knew it wasn't his doing, but he couldn't shake the look on Sam's face out of his head. The way his hopeful expression had completely crumbled in a matter of seconds because of what Jacob told him. He'd dropped a huge load of information on Sam's shoulders, and now he had a front row seat to the emotional backlash.  
  
Jacob couldn't have felt like more of an outsider. Like he was intruding while the brothers shared the heavy news. There was a sense of loss in the air, and Jacob couldn't get out of their way because he was stranded up on a very large hand that hovered over a hundred feet up in the air from his point of view.  
  
He wished he knew what to say. An apology didn't seem to fit.   
  
 _Sorry your life has sucked for the last fourteen years, enjoy the rest of it that way, too_  was just a mean joke.   
  
Jacob rubbed his eyes and wished he could have broken the news a little better. Maybe he  _had_  done something to earn what was happening to him. Sam never did. He was just a little kid when he'd been cursed, barely even aware of the supernatural. Jacob had received his own curse after a year of knowing people like Sam existed, and evidently failing to really understand things from their side. Sam had paid more than he owed by far, and he was the one who deserved a chance at his proper size.  
  
After a few moments with his hand on Dean's finger, Sam straightened. It wasn't in him to let news like that keep him down. He wouldn't waste his life pining after what he couldn't have. "Dean..." he said, getting his brother's attention back. "Don't worry. I meant what I said. This is my life now." He gave a fleeting smile. "Besides, I don't even know how to drive. Or much about money. You need your pocket ace, right? Who else would haul your lazy ass out of trouble all the time?"  
  
He turned back to Jacob and saw how bedraggled and  _stressed_  his friend really was. "You need to get your rest," Sam said kindly, not blaming him for the bad news in the least. "I'll watch out for you and make sure that nobody wakes you up. Dean can run out and grab us some real food for the morning instead of Fritos. I have a feeling we'll need all the energy we can get."  
  
Dean's hand lowered smoothly while Sam was talking. Sam held out a hand to help Jacob down. "What matters most right now is keeping you safe, from that man or from us."  
  
Jacob breathed a quiet sigh of relief at Sam's suggestion. He was fading fast after such a long night. He didn't remember ever being so tired after pulling an all nighter. Then again, he'd never been in a constant cycle of panic for most of a night, either. He took Sam's offered hand, and stumbled about as much getting off of Dean's hand as he might have stumbled everywhere else. Either he was improving, or he was just that off balance.  
  
"Dude. That's the best idea ever," he mumbled, quickly succumbing to the special kind of delirium that accompanied sleep deprivation, now that he didn't need to convey a message. All the news was out there. Now he could finally rest somewhere he couldn't hear a stomach clamoring for food that would dwarf Jacob.  
  
He practically flopped over once Sam led him to his spot on the folded up shirt. Bowman was still sleeping away, dormant after his own stressful day and with no sunlight to convince him to wake up yet. Before drifting off, Jacob muttered "And get your brother to fucking  _eat,_  his stomach echoes like a concert no one showed up for." With that advice, Jacob finally managed to fall asleep.  
  
Sam couldn't hide a smirk at that. Dean, still leaning down from letting them off, frowned. "What?" he asked softly. "Did he say something?"  
  
Sam grabbed his satchel before seating himself right next to Jacob's sleeping form as a stalwart sentinel. "He said, if you don't go eat something soon, he'll send Bowman to bop you."  
  
Dean's face turned red at that, realizing what must have made Jacob mention it. "Is it me or does everything this creep does make me look like the bad guy?" he hissed.  
  
Sam waved him off. "We'll talk  _later_ ," he said pointedly, jerking his head at the other two. There was no way to shelter either of them from the sheer volume of Dean’s voice, no matter how quiet he talked. "Now do us all a favor and go stock up on food, and get yourself breakfast, alright? I'll hold down the fort."  
  
There wasn't much Dean could say to argue with that, so moments later Sam was the only one awake in the room, contentedly drawing in his journal while he watched over the others. For a moment, he remembered that if he returned to normal, his book would be unreadable without a magnifying glass.  
  
He put that out of his mind. There was no point in fretting over something that would never happen.  
  
With so little motion and noise in the room, Bowman didn't wake until well into the morning. He sat up blearily, one wing haphazardly hanging over his shoulder from when it had been his blanket, and the other rumpled behind him. He blinked sluggishly at nothing while his mind caught up with his body.  
  
Flitting back and forth in a frantic search pattern had taken more out of him than he'd expected. Every second he had to battle the simultaneous fears that a human would spot him or capture him and that Jacob was beyond his help. Though neither had happened, the closeness of each possibility had been enough to stress the sprite out completely. He didn't even mind that he'd slept the sun up.  
  
He stretched his arms over his head and his wings luxuriously fanned out behind him. With light from the window behind them, they were notably verdant and leafy. As each bone in them carefully flexed, it was easy to see how proud the sprite was of them. He settled the wings in his lap and began to casually massage each bone, preening himself. While he worked, he finally turned his head to acknowledge the others on the nightstand with him.  
  
"Good grief. He's sleeping like a moonflower today," Bowman commented in a hush, noting Jacob's posture of heavy sleep. He looked like he'd just toppled right over and not bothered to arrange himself atop the cushioning of the shirt before drifting off. Sam sat protectively near the miniscule human, keeping watch over him, but glanced up at the voice in the silent, still room.  
  
Bowman narrowed his eyes at Jacob's face, then glanced up at Sam's. Jacob still sported the look of someone too exhausted to care much about anything but getting rest. Sam, however, sported the remnants of stress on his features. Bowman knew he'd been quite shaken by the close call the day before, too, but that wasn't it.  
  
Bowman couldn't help but wonder if he'd missed something.  
  
Sam jerked his head at Jacob. "He didn't get any sleep last night. Whatever shrank him down contacted him in a dream. He said it was like a Spirit dream until someone completely different popped in." Sam frowned at that. Jacob was so small and frail looking next to him, battered and bruised after simple events with humans that could crush him on a whim.  
  
 _Including Dean,_  Sam reminded himself sharply. Dean might not have meant it, but he was the source of many of the bruises, not to mention the injured ribs.  
  
"The man told Jacob he has to  _survive_  at that size, and he and Dean have lessons to learn about perspective. If they manage that, he'll be returned to his normal size. And then, after the dream, apparently the creep thought it would be funny to drop him on Dean during the night. He got pinned under a hand and didn't sleep at all until we woke up and found him."  
  
Sam shifted in place, crossing his legs. Jacob was collapsed less than an inch away, and Sam wasn't about to move until the little guy was back on his feet that day, not after everything he'd gone through. He deserved some peaceful rest. "Dean ran out for a bit to get himself some food, and probably to clear his mind. He's being set up as Jacob's biggest danger. Whoever's pulling the strings made it almost impossible for him to notice Jacob... the other night."  
  
Bowman frowned, a look of both anger and disbelief, but there was no lie on Sam's face. Just a lingering warning look for Bowman not to wake Jacob. The sprite was suddenly outraged. His wings went rigid as he thought about it.  
  
Jacob, already vulnerable and small and completely unprepared for the size of everything around him, forced to endure prolonged fear. Trapped helplessly, unable to even draw attention to himself and his suffering.  _Twice_  now. Even Bowman had had help available and aware of his plight when he was caught in the jaws of a wolf.  
  
Jacob had almost disappeared, just like that, to die alone. Just the thought of it turned Bowman's anger into melancholy. Jacob was his friend, and someone with powers they didn’t understand was trying to get him killed or grievously injured. "Just to teach him a lesson?" Bowman asked skeptically. The way Bowman saw it, Jacob didn't  _need_  a lesson. Certainly not one so harsh that he risked dying some horrible, painful death.  
  
The sprite scooted just a little closer, a protective feeling welling up inside. He knew that if the mysterious abuser of magic wanted, he could send Jacob away just like at the library. Thoughts like that didn’t keep Bowman from feeling that being a little closer to the small human might help shield him from the malicious force aligned against him.  
  
"Then I guess we'll have to make sure he stays alive until that wingless pile of snakeskin gets tired of his games and makes Jacob giant again," Bowman mused, returning to absently tend to his wings.  
  
Time passed by slowly in the room as Bowman preened and Sam kept a tireless watch for any danger. The rumbling purr of the Impala came to a stop directly outside the room as the morning passed them by. Dean shouldered his way in with a bag slung in his hands, only to get a glare sent his way from Sam for disturbing the quiet room.  
  
More subdued, Dean left a small to-go container from Biggerson's next to Sam and Bowman with fruit, eggs and sausage, along with enough coffee for them all. He was careful to not say a word, and tried his best to move quietly near Jacob.  
  
Once that was done, Dean stepped over to the table to work on research. He could only hope that the new information from Jacob would help unravel the mystery. He texted Bobby to relay all they’d learned from Jacob’s night of terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to feed the authors! Leave a comment to let us know what you think.
> 
> **NOTE:** There will be a blog/story update hiatus from January 25 th to February 3rd! Brothers Apart will be the only story that posts during that time, and all excerpts/asks will be paused for the duration. 
> 
> **Next:** January 17 th 2018 at 9pm.


	35. Where Did Jakey Go

The morning passed in that slow, subdued manner, with Jacob sleeping hard to rest from his trials. He hadn't had a decent, natural sleep since before shrinking, and it showed. The first night, he'd passed out from exhaustion and alcohol, despite terror screaming for him to stay awake. On his second night barely bigger than a quarter, Jacob had managed to stay awake and panic himself into even deeper levels of sleep deprivation.  
  
Jacob was completely and utterly exhausted, and he had only been tiny for two days. Bowman couldn't imagine the stress it must be putting on his friend to have to face the world like this. He thought he might come close, considering his first experiences with giants involved all-encompassing fists and a glass enclosure left over him for hours. Even that paled in comparison to the rough treatment Jacob had gotten.  
  
All to teach him some stupid, Spirit-scorned lesson.  
  
Bowman only left his friend's side for a short while to flutter into a sunbeam. He needed to keep up his strength in order to be of any help. Since Bowman's strength was entirely in his wings, he was going to take care of them as well as he always did. Jacob was counting on him.  
  
It was almost noon when Jacob finally stirred again. He was sluggish as he rolled onto his side, releasing a quiet  _huff_  when his ribs complained at him. One hand found his eyes to rub at them and help speed up his waking. He hesitated to open his eyes, wondering if he'd wake up somewhere new. Somewhere he hadn't fallen asleep.  
  
" 'm I still here?" he asked sluggishly, his hand still draped over his eyes to guard from the light.  
  
Sam glanced over from his journal to the groggy hunter. “You’re still here,” he said with a growing smile. “You didn’t move an inch since you flopped down next to me this morning.”  
  
With Jacob awake at last, Sam stood for the first time that morning, stretching his arms over his head and cracking his back. He gathered up a bit of the leftover food from earlier, bringing it back over to Jacob. Eggs, sausage and a bit of an apple slice were all on a shred of a napkin. “We’ve got some fresh grub from when you kicked Dean out of the room.” Sam grinned at the memory. “He ended up at Biggerson’s for a bit. Though the coffee’s cold at this point.”  
  
Jacob sat up blearily, relieved to see the same old scenery of the top of the nightstand when he opened his eyes. Things were still too damn big, but at least they were familiar. Accepting the napkin laden with food, he raised his eyebrows tiredly. " _I_  kicked him out of the room?" he asked, not remembering much about the night before after he stepped off Dean’s hand.  
  
Sam's smile was huge by now. "Yeah, you kicked him out of the room. I told him if he didn't go get some breakfast you'd send Bowman over to bop him just like he always threatens."  
  
Jacob shook his head and glanced over at Bowman. Bowman raised an eyebrow, since he was asleep for this apparent volunteering him to bop Dean, but he couldn't imagine he'd say  _no._  Any excuse was good enough for him. Jacob, for his part, didn't remember enough to deny it. He took Sam's word for it with a somewhat bemused look on his face.   
  
Sam didn’t bother to correct them, remembering full well what Jacob had actually said. It was better they focus on the ridiculousness of Bowman bopping an over-six-foot-tall hunter than Dean eating. He took a contented sip of the remains of his own coffee, watching the others in the room.  
  
Jacob noticed that Bowman's wings weren't quivering like mad, so he probably hadn't had any of the coffee yet. He returned Bowman's smile of greeting with a tired smile of his own, before tucking into his breakfast. It didn't matter that it was cold; it was still good. "Bowman, I'm surprised you didn't give in to the temptation and have some hot coffee, don't you love the stuff? How will you ever keep yourself awake?"  
  
"Big words coming from someone who slept half the day away," Bowman quipped right back, already getting up to fill Jacob's little cup for him. He may have slept for a long time but he still looked like he could use all the energy he could get. He brought it over to his friend, handing off the tiny cup carefully.  
  
Sam’s eyes sought out Dean, intent on his phone and his reading over at the table. He'd been going back and forth with Bobby the entire morning on what the strange man that had contacted Jacob was and so far both had come up with squat. They were slowly building up a picture of this unseen nemesis, and Sam knew they'd get to the bottom of it. They always did.  
  
"I think Dean needed the fresh air, anyway," Sam mulled. "He's been more upbeat since he got back. And what you told him about it not being his fault helped a lot too. The guilt was killing him.”  
  
Jacob followed Sam’s gaze to where Dean was hard at work, watching over the aluminum cup as he drank down some of the cold coffee. It was better than nothing. He needed a little pick-me-up after the night he had. He set his cup aside and picked up a bit of egg, munching on it gratefully. He never thought something as lackluster as cold breakfast food could be so good.  
  
"That’s good," he replied, remembering the remorseful glances that kept shooting his way. Even before finding out what had really happened, Jacob never blamed  _Dean_ for what had happened. Just his rotten luck.  
  
At least now some of that blame could shift to this mysterious, self-appointed teacher. Jacob couldn't erase the fact that now he was nervous around giants  _eating,_  but he wouldn't stand for Dean starving himself and beating himself up over it. Not when someone was messing with his mind to make his actions, already too large for Jacob's safety, even more dangerous.  
  
After some quiet contemplation, a thought occurred to Sam. “Hey Bowman. You mind letting Dean know that Jacob’s awake and doing better?” he asked. “We’ll need to regroup soon and see if he or Bobby came up with any possibilities. Try and track down this stranger before he strikes again, if we can.” It would do Dean good to see his friend back to normal after the harried Jacob they’d seen that morning. He’d actually been aggravated and overtired enough to snap at  _Dean_. Sam had never had a problem calling his brother down like that, but ever since being downsized, he’d seen a trace of intimidation around Jacob whenever the largest human was being ornery.  
  
And really, being ornery was half of Dean's personality.  
  
It was harmless enough for his friends, but having that glare leveled at them could be hard to take. Dean had no idea sometimes how intimidating he could be. To someone used to standing taller than everyone else, it could be quite a shock to see at Jacob’s size.  
  
Bowman nodded and stood once more. "I can even bop him to get his attention, if you think I should," he joked, stretching his arms over his head.  
  
Jacob looked up, amazed as always to see Boman taller than him. "Nah, not for now. No need to earn yourself pocket time for nothing, right?"  
  
"Oh, it's great to see your sense of humor is still intact," Bowman groused, rolling his eyes. With an annoyed flutter of his wings, he was off. In bare seconds, he landed nimbly atop one of the books arranged near Dean while the human worked. It looked like he'd perused many of them, and had finally ruled out some of the books on poisons and mushrooms, pushing them aside. Bowman flexed his wings while Dean finished up a message to Bobby.  
  
Jacob took a few more bites of his food before determining that he could use a stretch himself, after lying still for so long. He set aside his napkin of half-eaten breakfast and went to stand. A noise echoed in his head that sent ice racing up and down his spine in a frightened shudder.   
  
Jacob managed to whip his gaze frantically up to Sam's face and blurt "Sa--!" before the sound of the  _snap_  made him vanish into thin air, like he wasn't even there in the first place.  
  
Sam's mouth dropped open in shock as Jacob vanished right in front of his eyes. He was there one second, gone the next. No warning, no flash or fading away...   
  
Just gone.  
  
Across the room at roughly the same time, Bowman opened his mouth to deliver his announcement. "Hey, De-- Ah!" He was cut off by a sharp feeling on one of his wings, which spasmed open and twitched violently. The feeling spread, sending the many nerves in Bowman's sensitive wings haywire.  
  
He collapsed on the book immediately, rolling onto his back while his wings curled and twitched from the bizarre, almost ticklish sensation spreading over them and rendering him voiceless.  
  
Bowman tried to reach behind himself to scratch away whatever was assaulting him as he flailed around, but could find nothing. He ended up rolling off the edge of the book and onto the table with a quiet "Oof!" before he finally settled in a heap of quivering sprite, leafy green wings still twitching with the phantom sensation.  
  
The sounds from the table were drowned out by Sam’s panic for a moment. "No, no, no..." he muttered, scrambling over to where Jacob had been moments ago. There was no sign of him anywhere. Sam held out hope that maybe he'd just blinked and Jacob had managed to trip himself into a fold of the shirt they were using.  
  
But there was nothing.  
  
Even as he sank to his knees he heard Dean's astounded gasp and Bowman's collapse at the table. His head swiveled, eyes wide with shock at the twitching sprite even as Bowman was scooped into one large hand to keep him from getting hurt in his convulsions.  
  
 _There's no way that was a coincidence..._  
  
With that thought in mind, Sam grabbed his satchel and practically dove off the nightstand. He saved himself with the hook last second, halting his progress a few inches away from the ground. He dropped those last few inches, tugging the hook free before he dashed into a flat-out run across the motel room floor towards the other two.  
  
Sam made it a habit of never crossing through the center of a room or pathway by instinct, but Dean might be the only human that he was willing to bend that rule for on occasion. Dean had turned out to be very good at watching out for his  _little_  little brother, and had earned more trust than Sam had thought possible. So here, in this room with Dean, he ran into the open. His satchel thudded against his back with every stride, and at the end he practically jumped on Dean’s leg to scramble up it.  
  
Dean lifted Bowman up, unsure what he could do to help. "You okay?" he asked uncertainty. He could feel Sam climbing up, but concern for Bowman overrode all else. Sam could handle himself. Dean’s other hand hovered over the sprite. "What happened?"  
  
Bowman pushed himself up with a scowl, his wings still uncomfortable and itchy now that the scratching had finished. He sat on Dean's palm and folded his wings around himself to rest them on his lap. His hands halted halfway to scratching at them. "What is going on?!" he blurted, his voice full of equal parts dismay and absolute annoyance.  
  
Bowman's wings were covered in marks. Dark blue scribbles and a few of the blocky human symbols were written all over every inch of them. Bowman stretched them as far as he could, flexing the membrane so he could scan the surface area. All of it was covered in those designs. Bowman looked up at Dean, his confused and annoyed frown begging the human to have some kind of explanation for the marks besmirching his precious wings.  
  
Sam made it up, hauling himself up the outstretched arm that had Bowman in hand. "Jacob's gone," he said without delay. "Just like in the library. There one second, gone the next." The arm under him twitched at his words, but didn't throw him off.  
  
Dean frowned. "Just when Bowman started spazzing over here, I bet." He reached his free hand towards the sprite. "Try not to move, okay?" he told Bowman, lightly pinching a wing and opening it wide without straining it to let them see the markings that had almost caused a seizure. Bowman begrudgingly allowed this, knowing his wings were still twitching too much to give a very clear view of the scribbles on the membrane of his leafy wings.  
  
Sam crossed his arms, intent examining what had appeared. He read out loud in disbelief.  
  
" _Like a rat in a maze; where did Jakey go?_  
  
" _If you want to find him quick, better look down below._ "  
  
Dean instantly stared down at the ground, nervous at the thought of standing. But Sam latched on to what stood out to him as the most important part of the phrase. A clue hidden inside a taunting message drawn on Bowman dimly stood out to him.  
  
 _Like a rat in a maze..._  
  
Sam's eyes were drawn inexorably towards the walls of the old motel. Walls with plenty of space inside for someone Sam's size. The years he’d spent away from Dean came slamming back to him. Years he’d spent inside walls just like that, scraping out a living.  
  
 _Oh, no._  
  
He didn't even consider the option that Jacob was in the room. That would be too easy for him and Bowman to figure out. It wouldn’t be much of a learning experience when all they needed to do was confine Dean to a chair while they sought out the fourth member of their group.  
  
"The walls, guys," he said listlessly. "Jacob's in the walls."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, that's right. This is the story of all bad things.
> 
> Haaave funnn!
> 
> Don't forget to feed the authors! Leave a comment to let us know what you think.
> 
> **Next:** January 21 st 2018 at 9pm. (It's my birthday! :D)


	36. Like a Rat in a Maze

_Shit. I'm in the walls._  
  
The realization came to Jacob after a few moments of cautious stumbling in the dark. His hands trailed along a horizontal beam of wood that had to be an inch tall. Another was arranged above it, with a cottony substance easily felt behind them. It took only one brush of it for Jacob to flinch back. He was feeling wooden slats that ran within the walls to hold towers of cheap, fluffy insulation at bay.  
  
He had a feeling that fiberglass would be a lot more than just scratchy and irritating at his current size. He could slice his skin open easily if he got the stuff on him. Jacob inched away from the slatted walls that he couldn't see, his boots shuffling over a layer of collected dust thick enough for him to sink into it. His hands groped cautiously until he managed to cross the space that seemed both claustrophobic and absolutely cavernous at the same time.  
  
His fingertips finally brushed across a dry, gritty surface. Drywall. Jacob blinked heavily, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness that surrounded him with a suffocating intensity. With no light leaking in, that was impossible.  
  
Jacob walked along for several steps, feeling like his breathing might wake up whatever humans were in the room adjacent to his current position. He kept his hands on the plaster, knowing that just beyond it were enormous rooms full of furniture that dwarfed him and people that could step on him--  _or even eat him_ \-- without realizing it.  
  
Somewhere in the massive motel, assuming he was still  _in_  the same motel, his friends would be looking for him. Sam had to be freaking out. He'd been looking right at Jacob when he vanished. Jacob remembered looking at the hunter nearly three times his size with a helpless expression before everything shifted and he was in the dark, frozen by the change.  
  
He wasn't far from his starting position when he stopped abruptly. Though his heart pounded from the knowledge that this space yawned far above him, unfathomably high, and far in either direction, providing a straight path to nowhere, he had to think. Jacob had been told that he was supposed to  _survive_  at this size. Learn lessons about what it was like to be tiny.  
  
He'd already had plenty of views of what seemed like an impossibly large room stretching all around him, the floor a landscape of several square miles to his reckoning. Somehow,  _knowing_  that much space was around him now but being completely unable to  _see_  it caused much more trepidation. He crept forward again, his hands becoming coated in dust from the drywall as he went.  
  
Sam grew up in spaces like this. He was probably even accustomed to moving around in the dark at a confident pace instead of Jacob's cautious, wary one. He tried to remember what Sam had told him about it. Hearing about it from him always made the inside of the walls seem like some fascinating trek through a scene from an  _Indiana Jones_  movie. The four inch hunter was completely chill when he mentioned the interior of the walls, accepting them as a part of his world.  
  
Actually being there, with no way of knowing what was around him and no way of finding a way out while the dark bore into him accusingly, was more like a scene from a horror film.  
  
With one of his senses completely deprived, Jacob's other senses were going haywire. He could hear every miniscule scrape of the dust under his shoes as he walked, and he could hear creaking in the distance as someone absolutely huge moved in the room next to him. An enormous door slammed, the sound muffled by the wall even as the vibrations still trembled through him. Jacob smelled the dust and felt the stale air.  
  
When he reached a corner created by the wall and a two-by-four support beam, Jacob stopped. One hand planted on the wood, still rough from lack of exposure, helped him keep his sense of place as he assessed his situation.  
  
 _Survival._    
  
The name of the game was survival. An infuriating smirk filtered into his mind's eye with the memory.  
  
Jacob may not have the first clue about surviving as one of Sam's folk. The tiny people who lived in walls eked out a place by repurposing forgotten items they found and scavenging for any dropped food available. He  _did_  have survival skills for living out in the wilderness. Some of them had to apply here.  
  
For one, he determined to stay near the support board. It was his point of reference and one of the first pieces of advice always given out to people on a hike is, if you get lost, to  _stay where you are._  The search party has an easier time finding you if you remain where you got lost. Jacob knew he couldn't have wandered far from where he first arrived in the walls for it to matter. His legs were less than an inch long; his timid, shuffling strides hadn't taken him more than a foot, he guessed.  
  
Another tip was to consider potential animals that might attack and prepare for them based on their strengths. Things like wolves and mountain lions tended to avoid attacking threats that seemed too big for them. Jacob almost had to laugh. There was nothing that he could scare off by looking too big.  
  
But then his thoughts drifted back to more of what Sam had told him. Particularly about how he and his adopted dad occasionally fought rats to make sure the motel staff had no reason to call an exterminator and endanger every person living in the walls.  
  
 _Rat. The thing that is now the size of a mid-sized boat to you,_  Jacob reminded himself.  
  
Rats would eat anything, and their strengths were in their keen senses. Rats could see, hear, and  _smell_  better than Jacob could ever hope to do in this exact environment.  
  
 _Fuck._  
  
He rubbed his thumbs across his fingertips thoughtfully. Jacob had just been eating some relatively greasy breakfast food. To the sensitive nose of a rat, he might as well be a tidy portion of scrambled eggs just sitting on a plate, waiting to be eaten. Jacob clenched his jaw and looked around frantically in the dark.  
  
His ears were playing tricks on him, turning the very distinct creaking of the air ducts into the sound of snuffling, slinking rat footsteps.  
  
But that didn't mean he was in the clear. Wasting no more time, Jacob dropped to his knees on the dusty floor and hastily rubbed his hands in the dust before brushing it onto himself. He needed to mask his scent. If he didn't, it would lead any resident rats straight to him. He brushed dust into his hair, even on his face. When his hands didn't feel like they were getting the job done quickly enough, Jacob dropped and rolled over, making sure his back was well covered in dust.  
  
It was one of the oldest survival tricks in the book. Make himself smell like the environment he found himself in. In this case, Jacob would smell like the walls.  
  
Once he felt sufficiently covered in dust, Jacob scooted himself into the corner by the drywall and the support beam. With his knees drawn close to his chest, Jacob kept his widened eyes darting around despite seeing nothing.  
  
He waited.  
  


* * *

  
Bowman looked over his shoulder, his wing still caught in between Dean's massive finger and thumb. Thankfully the pressure wasn't enough that he had to gripe at the human. He focused instead on Sam. "In the walls?! Like where your folk make their homes?"  
  
Dark, dusty halls, constantly assaulted by muffled noises from the humans came to Bowman's mind's eye. Jacob, all alone in a space like that, could get hopelessly lost. He could get hurt and have no way to get himself any help. "Do you think anyone else lives here?"  
  
Sam frowned. "It's impossible to know for sure," he said in reply. "They could live anywhere in the motel, and keeping out of sight is key to their survival. Considering we've always been here with Dean or Jacob around, the last thing they'd do is come anywhere close, even though we’re the same size."   
  
Dean and Jacob were two of the most intimidating humans around. Jacob simply from sheer size, and Dean from the keen look of concentration that he got. It made him look far angrier than he was, and getting caught in his line of sight wasn't for the weak of heart,  _especially_  if they didn't already know him. If others lived in the motel and caught sight of Sam or Bowman hanging around with the two humans, they’d avoid them on principal. It was a common assumption that a little that was with a human had been trained to find other littles in the walls.  
  
The ground under Sam twitched, reminding him he was still standing on Dean's forearm. He took a few steps forward, passing over the wrist to stand next to Bowman on his palm. Dean's hand released Bowman's wing and lowered away to give them room as they stood there together. "I doubt anyone lives here, though. I've seen no sign of any extra occupants, and I did check out inside the walls once or twice. If you know what to look for, it's usually pretty obvious."  
  
His hazel eyes sought out Dean's worried greens. "We need to find him  _now_. For all we know he got dropped next to a rat. Remember the library? Straight next to a kid without any warning. He got lucky that he didn't get crushed. A rat won't give him that kind of chance."  
  
Dean glanced around the room, searching out any possible openings that would lead into the walls. Sam and Bowman had to brace themselves when he stood without warning, the hand swaying in midair as he turned. Sam leaned over to peer off the edge as Dean prowled around, checking every corner of the room.   
  
"There  _has_  to be a way in," Dean growled. If he wasn't afraid of Jacob being in the way, he'd be tempted to just kick a hole in the wall for Sam. Unfortunately, with the way their luck worked, that would be exactly where their friend had been dropped.  
  
Actual luck graced the three of them when Dean passed by the dresser on his second run through of the room. "Dean! Wait!" Sam shouted. He pointed down next to the leg of the dresser. "That should work."  
  
 _That_  happened to be a peeling piece of the old wallpaper that covered the walls of the room. Under the curling corner at the bottom, instead of drywall, there was a blackness that almost seemed darker than night.  
  
Dean knelt down, holding his hand out for them. Sam hopped off, darting over to the opening without delay and opening it up. Sure enough, between the support beams was an entrance into the darkness that lay inside the walls. Sam vanished without a second glance, his satchel bouncing against his side.  
  
"Hey, hold up," Dean said before Bowman could follow. "Here, this should help, since you're probably like me and can't see a thing in there." He held out a flashlight, clicking it on for the sprite. It was made for a keychain, leaving it only two inches in length and small enough for the sprite to use it. "Watch out for yourselves in there, okay?"  
  
Bowman took the bulky plastic light-stick in his arms, careful not to look right at the shining end. The worn plastic thing fit somewhat clumsily in his grasp, but it was lightweight enough that it wouldn't slow him down.  
  
He nodded, grateful for a source of light. Bowman's wings were still tense and shuddering occasionally from the bizarre sensation of something  _writing on them,_  but he did his best to tuck them close as he moved towards the hole in the wall. He wanted to help, in any way that he could, but he wasn't equipped with eyes that could see in such total darkness. Bowman would have been a liability without the light-stick.  
  
"We'll be right back," he quipped, shoving the light into the opening first before pulling the wallpaper back enough to admit him. With his wings tucked close, Bowman followed Sam into the wall.  
  
The sprite almost immediately had to suppress a cough from the dust stirred up by their entrance. He picked up the light, aiming it in one direction along the wall. Abandoned cobwebs, dust, and bits of some kind of colorful cotton littered the floor between the towering support beams.  
  
Bowman was discouraged by how much open space there actually was in the wall. It was no wonder people chose to live in there, but it didn't bode well for their search patterns. "How do we even start?" he asked, hoisting up the light to aim it clumsily in front of himself.  
  
Sam glanced back at Bowman and had to look away immediately. "Careful you don't shine that in my eyes," he warned even as he led the way. It was a welcome addition to their trek but one good flash from it would ruin any hope of him being able to see in the dark corners that lurked around them. His eyes were better adapted to the darkness than Dean or Bowman's were. If their situation wasn't so dire he might actually welcome the visit into the walls, as he returned to the world he felt most comfortable. "The good thing about this type of motel is the rooms are laid out in an easy-to-follow pattern. All the walls are connected to the rooms by one main passage that divides the two sides of the motel, then you have parts that shoot off into each room."  
  
He pointed overhead. "If we can't find him down here, the vents above are the next place we'd need to search." His lips tightened. "Hopefully we don't find him there. The fan isn't strong enough to blow me or you over, but he's a lot lighter. He could get tossed out a vent near the ceiling of a room, or at the very least, knocked around a lot more than he already is."  
  
When they reached the end of the passageway to two more that opened up to either side, Sam judged from what he could see. "Normally, I'd say we should split up, but I'm not seeing any sign of people like me." He gestured at the sawdust that was scattered on the ground along with a heap of dust bunnies. There were no footprints. "A place like this should see traffic if anyone is nearby. We need to stick together in case there's anything lurking around."   
  
He slipped his hand into his jacket and pulled out his knife. It gleamed in the light of the flashlight. "Even a spider could cause problems for us, and Jacob isn't big enough to deal with the smaller pests and rodents. His only hope would be if he found a mouse. They never bother people our size, and they love children. He should fit right into that category for them."  
  
He had Bowman shine the light down each side of the passage, and picked the direction that darkness lurked further away from them. "We'll start this way and check the wall of each room as fast as we can. Just stick close to me." With his knife held at the ready, Sam lead the way into the bowels of the motel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got to go to a hibachi for my birthday P: Everyone have a good week!
> 
> **Next:** January 24 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Don't forget to feed the authors! Leave a comment to let us know what you think.


	37. Patience

Sitting in the dark for a long time didn't help Jacob's eyes adjust _at all_. He was still completely blind. He did think he might have a  _feel_  for where the other side of the wall was, but it was only guesswork. He remained in his corner, blinking a lot and wishing that just a  _trace_  of light would reach him.  
  
Jacob could hear every ominous creak as the building settled. One of the people who lived in the motel room nearest him had been gone a while, but there was the occasional tremor in the ground and distant shifting of fabric. Someone was asleep in one of the beds. A titan snoozing away the afternoon, none the wiser to the absolutely teeny person huddled beyond their tacky wallpaper. Every deep breath that filled their massive lungs sounded like a distant gale, as though freedom was close enough if Jacob were to just go and look for it.  
  
He refused that instinct to go and search, remaining where he sat with his knees hugged close to him. Getting up and wandering around would be the absolute worst idea. He had no idea where he was, no idea if he'd walk over a hole in the ground and plummet in the dark. His very best chance was to hope that Sam and Bowman were on the way. Anything else was impossible for him to manage on his own. Jacob was too small.  
  
They could look for him. Sam had to know what to do. Jacob sure as hell didn't, and that scared the crap out of him.  
  
The smell inside the walls reeked of the kind of stale air that never stirred, making him think that maybe no people like Sam's family lived here. Just piles of sawdust, lots of dustbunnies,  _Jacob_ , and ...   
  
Was that a rat?  
  
Jacob stiffened, breath caught in his chest. It took a moment of fear to realize his overactive ears had supplied him with a phantom noise once again. The silence around him stretched on like the gaping dark. It was like a physical weight slowly edging closer and closer around him like it might steal him away at any second. Jacob gave up on looking around and ducked his head, hiding his face behind his arms.  
  
Some lesson. He was dropped into an unfamiliar environment, one that was completely hostile to him. He had no way to see, no way to protect himself. Just a lot of dust and a hope that Sam would figure out where to look for him. The quiet, oppressive darkness all around seemed to settle on Jacob and fill him with a feeling that was becoming uncomfortably familiar. Helplessness.  
  
Jacob's fists clenched as he thought about what the man who had cursed him had said. That he needed perspective on what it was like to be small. That he needed to learn what people like Sam and Bowman felt their entire lives. Sam's words from the morning before mixed in with the thoughts, reminding Jacob that Sam only ever had what control was given to him. Jacob thought about the first time they met-- and captured-- Bowman. The sprite had curled up a lot like Jacob was now, trapped under glass and overwhelmed by fear of what would be done to him. What he couldn't stop.  
  
And  _Jacob_  had been the one to put him under the glass in the first place. It was no wonder the guy thought Jacob needed a lesson in helplessness. He had so easily snatched control of someone's life away from them. Twice. Jacob curled into a tighter ball at the realization that he  _deserved_  this. He had been an absolute nightmare to Sam and Bowman, and suddenly he had to wonder why they even kept him around. With the suffocating dark all around, it was easy to slip into such disparaging thoughts.  
  
He was completely reliant on Sam and Bowman now. Dean, with all his tricks and his arsenal that was always on hand, wouldn't be able to safely help him here. Jacob had never needed to rely on someone this much. If they couldn't find him, he'd either waste away and starve in the walls or he'd be found by something that would rip him to shreds for a quick meal of its own. Jacob was as helpless as a baby deer before a mountain lion.  
  
It was only a matter of time.  
  
High above, metallic vents he couldn't see creaked and ticked as the air conditioning started up. There was a hum now, a gentle background noise that seemed so out of place in this stifling, terrifying space. Jacob had so much room around him, but he felt trapped in his corner. He forlornly brushed a wood chip off his sleeve, knowing that in actuality it was a piece of sawdust.  
  
Jacob's own mind whispered abuse at him, but it was cut off by a noise. Jacob realized with a quickening heart that it wasn't a false alarm.   
  
_Something’s coming._  
  
He pressed himself further into his corner as his ears strained. There was a faint scraping as something low to the ground scurried along within the walls.  
  
He shut his blind eyes tight when whatever it was passed his support beam. Jacob couldn't see it, but he could  _tell_  that something was in front of him, mere inches away. It sniffed the air. Paws shuffled around in the dust. It didn't sound very large - bigger than him, but not massive.  
  
Just when Jacob thought the mouse would turn on him, scratch at him for being in its territory, he heard a shuffle of little paws and a long thin tail against the ground as it dashed away. Off on whatever business mice got into while they were shuffling around in the dark. At least it either hadn't noticed Jacob or it hadn't reckoned him worth the time.  
  
Jacob slumped, adrenaline filtering through his system almost like it was disappointed not to be put to use. Maybe he would have been strong enough to wrestle with the creature for a bit, but Jacob could not see himself winning a fight with even a  _mouse._  
  
A long, blessedly uneventful while later, Jacob heard footsteps again. He perked up, wondering if the mouse was back. Then his eyes widened. Jacob may not be able to see it, but he could hear that the creature approaching with a lazy gait was a lot bigger than any mouse.  
  
_A rat. Shitfuckdammit._  
  
He quivered where he sat, knowing how big the rat must be by comparison. His imagination was cruel to him, as it had been since the whole fiasco began. Its paws would be huge, with claws as long as his fingers caked in blood and dirt. Vicious teeth the length of his arm would adorn its ever-starving mouth. If it stood up on its haunches, a rat would even stand taller than Sam. The creature would be the size of an elephant to Jacob.  
  
The sound of a massive tail sweeping lazily on the ground behind the creature left Jacob thinking that just that appendage could break his ribs if it smacked him. He couldn't hope to defend himself at all against this animal. His only sliver of hope was that his covering of dust was enough to hide him from the creature.  
  
It came closer.  
  
It was inches beyond the support beam at his back. Jacob's eyes were wide and still saw no more than before. He heard the curious sniffling; perhaps the rat was annoyed that a mouse had recently scampered by. Maybe that was all.  
  
He  _felt_  more than anything else when the rat's imposing presence passed the support beam. Jacob put his hand over his mouth and held his breath, knowing a beady black eye had to be inches away from him, a nose with long whiskers guiding the rodent's actions. He could almost convince himself that he felt its footfalls. A single exhalation escaping him might alert it to his presence.   
  
The lumbering creature, though invisible to him, took on an appearance in Jacob's mind regardless. Red-rimmed black eyes that let no light escape their depths. Long, jagged teeth ready to gnaw whatever the long spindly paws snared in their grasp. Matted, shaggy brown fur coarse with years of exposure to dust and little else. A long pink tail, endlessly shifting back and forth even as the creature inched forward, loudly sniffing the ground around it. It was hideous. It was powerful. It would kill him.  
  
_Don't notice me don't notice me don't notice me_  Jacob begged, a mantra to go along with his body's quaking.  
  
And for a moment, it seemed like it didn't. The rat took a few more steps forward, and Jacob could sense the way its bulk effectively hedged him into his corner. The rat shifted the dustbunnies and sawdust around with its constant snuffling and the stirrings of its tail. Jacob hardly dared breathe.  
  
Just when Jacob thought he might actually be in the clear, with the rat several steps ahead of the support beam, that huge snakelike tail dragged along the ground and all but slammed into him. Jacob couldn't help the faint noise of startled pain as his shins took the brunt of the impact.  
  
The scraping noise of the rat whirling around chilled Jacob to his core. It's tail swept away but he knew the thing was looking right at him, sniffing the air around him. Probably unable to believe this strange, moving little thing had escaped its strong sense of smell.  
  
Jacob didn't wait around for the rat to deliberate on what to do. He shot to his feet, aided by a healthy surge of adrenaline, and tried to bolt around the support beam. Every instinct screamed at him to  _run._  The beast that had him in its sight would tear him apart.  
  
Piece by piece by piece. He might even live long enough to feel the first few vicious bites into him as the rat snapped him up.  
  
He didn't even make it around the wooden pillar. An enormous paw slammed into him. Jacob's breath was forced out of his lungs and he was pinned against the support beam, his arms stuck and his legs useless to squirm his way out of this one. A low noise of fear made its way out of his throat, and a quiet squeak whistled out of the rat as if it was taunting him. Playing with its prey.  
  
Those long, sharp claws didn't dig into him yet. One just barely scratched at Jacob's jaw, and he felt the sting of an open cut.  
  
And he felt the rushes of air as an invisible snout came close to sniff at him. Jacob struggled weakly against the superior strength of his captor. Soon, the long teeth that he couldn't even see would tear into him. Jacob probably wouldn't even have time to scream in agony before his lungs were separated from his windpipe by those powerful teeth. He was going to die fast, and he was going to die bloody.  
  
And he was going to die alone.  
  


* * *

  
Time passed by endlessly as they searched.  
  
Sam could feel a growing sense of unease as they passed by the motel rooms. Each offshoot of the passageway was meticulously examined, Sam directing Bowman with the flashlight to each corner of the darkness. They couldn't risk calling out for Jacob here; there was too much of a chance that they'd be heard by other humans in the rooms. Dean was nowhere close by, and they couldn't rely on him for a last minute save this time.  
  
Any words passed back and fourth were in quiet, hushed voices. Sam had to warn Bowman away from a mousetrap at one point, set and laid out with a crumpled piece of bread at the center. Before moving on, he'd found a hunk of wood, tossing it into the middle to set it off. At least if there were any mice living in the building, they wouldn't fall into  _this_  trap.  
  
The further away they ventured from Dean's motel room, the more worried he became. What if he'd picked the wrong direction? There were  _hundreds_  of motel rooms; to search them all might take  _days_  for them. If Jacob was huddled into a corner and fell asleep, even Sam and Bowman might pass him by on their search. That possibility would mean they'd never see him again.  
  
Still, they pressed on, determination filling them both. He was one of their best friends, and he was counting on them. There was no one else that could do this.  
  
Even as they slipped out of the sixth or seventh corridor they'd examined, the taunting words on Bowman's wings caught Sam's eye.   
  
_Like a rat in a maze..._    
  
Well, this was certainly a maze if you didn't know the layout the way Sam did. What was starting to worry him was the thought of a rat finding Jacob. What if there was a reason the word had been placed in the taunt?  
  
The sounds out of a television drowned out his thoughts for the eighth and ninth passages. Someone was watching  _Indiana Jones_  nearby, the triumphant music loud and blaring as it announced to the world the end of the movie. Sam was vaguely impressed that there had been no complaints, especially considering the way that the ground and sawdust scattered around vibrated in time with the blasting bass.  
  
By the time they came upon the tenth passage, and Sam was feeling the hope he'd held on to start to slip away, he heard a sound ahead of them in the dark. Holding out a hand to stop Bowman in his tracks, Sam gestured the sprite to wait there.  
  
Sam ducked down, slinking along in the shadows cast by the small flashlight as it played over the landscape.  _Scuffle, scuffle..._  his ears trained on the sound as he approached.  _Scuffle_.  
  
Coming up next to a support beam, he froze. From there he listened to the strange sound approach, up until...  
  
Sam went to jump out as it came up next to his beam, almost tripping over himself in his surprise. It was just a  _mouse_. He let out a laugh of relief as it sniffled at his jacket sleeve, bright eyes blinking up at him. "Holy crap, I thought you were a rat." Sam brushed a hand over the rounded ears. Mice weren’t dangerous to him or Bowman. "You should be more careful. Where's your family?"  
  
After a moment of sniffing, the mouse squeaked in surprise. Unexpectedly, the teeth latched onto Sam's jacket sleeve, trying to propel him along.   
  
"Hey, what's going on?" Sam stumbled a few times in place at the awkward angle of being dragged along with his arm almost on the ground. He waved at the now-distant Bowman to follow along. "Did something happen?"  
  
Rats were an enemy to avoid, but mice were friendly to people like Sam. Centuries of living in close quarters had resulted in a surprising symbiotic relationship. Sam's people made sure to keep the mousetraps harmless, just like he’d done earlier on, and the mice would take care of the families that lived near them. More than once growing up Sam had been brought small 'presents,' like a hunk of bread or a dropped bottlecap. Little things that the mice assumed they'd need.  
  
Now, if there was something wrong, he'd normally be eager to help, but Jacob might be out there, waiting for them. Lost and alone. He tried to pull himself to a stop, but when the mouse released his arm, all that ended up happening was it nudged him from behind, pushing him down the corridor.   
  
"Okay, okay!" Sam said, trying to get the mouse to calm down. "We're coming." If the mouse was that eager to get him moving, something must really be wrong. They were almost never pushy like that.  
  
With that assurance, the mouse darted ahead, squeaking. At a quick jog, Sam followed along, the light from behind bouncing along as Bowman tried to keep up. They passed by four more motel rooms, an amount that would take them another hour to search at the pace they'd been travelling.  
  
The mouse skid to a stop at a dark, looming corridor. Sam froze next to him, his ears tuned in to the sounds that lay ahead. No mouse sounded like that.  
  
"A rat. It's a rat," he said in a hushed voice. "That's what you needed help with?" He held his knife at the ready, waiting for Bowman to catch up with the light.  
  
Seconds after the flashlight shone down the corridor, Sam felt his insides turn to ice.  
  
There was definitely a rat ahead of them. Dark eyes glittered as the light reflected off of them, temporarily blinded by the sudden onslaught. Its paws were wrapped around its prey, the same way Sam had seen rats do to insects in the past before biting down.  
  
But that was no bug in its paws.

[Rat by aibyou!](https://aibyou.deviantart.com/art/Sketch-CMs-batch1-588736390)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, not Patience like the new character for Wayward Sisters. Patience, as in, Jacob knows how to wait out a search party.
> 
> And also patience, because the next update for this story comes... February 4th!
> 
> Don't forget to feed the authors! Leave a comment to let us know what you think.
> 
> Please join us for when BA resumes posting on January 31st with Bittersweet Parting!
> 
>  **NOTE:** There will be a blog/story update hiatus from January 25 th to February 3rd! Brothers Apart will be the only story that posts during that time, and all excerpts/asks will be paused for the duration. 
> 
> If anyone is looking for night or neon during those weeks, we'll be very deeply involved with **Monster Hunter: World** for the duration.
> 
>  **Next:** February 4 th 2018 at 9pm.


	38. Sam F*cking Winchester

Even as Jacob thrashed, held four inches off the ground, Sam grabbed a pebble that was lying next to his foot. Jacob's tiny boot caught the rat in the nose and startled it just as the pebble hurtled towards them, smashing right into its forehead.

Jacob dropped like a stone as the rat reeled in surprise, blinking angrily at its surroundings while it tried to figure out where the attack came from. By then, Sam was already on the move. "Stay with Bowman!" he commanded the mouse that had found their friend. The troubled squeak hardly registered to him. Sam had only one goal.

Before the rat could recover, Sam slammed right down between it and Jacob, planting his feet decisively. There was a brief second where they took in each other's appearance, sizing up their opponent. The matted fur on the rat’s back slowly raised in aggression.

Then Sam tossed himself forward, lashing out with his knife.

* * *

  
Jacob winced, amazed that he hadn't broken his ankles from the fall.  _But I wouldn't at this size,_  he reminded himself. He was too light to do more than jar his ankles and his knees when the rat dropped him.

And then a huge boot bigger than his head slammed down in front of him. Jacob stared in awe, his eyes trailing upwards. 

_Sam._  

Sam stood over him defensively, a knife in his hand over half Jacob's length. As Sam lunged forward at the huge rat, Jacob realized from the glint off the blade that he could  _see_.

He scrambled backwards in surprise, blinking in the newfound light as he finally got an actual look at the thing that almost ate him. He was grateful to have his sight back, but all the same he almost wished he didn’t.

The hulking thing had shaggy brown fur like he'd guessed, but it was far more matted and grubby than even his imagination had dreamt up. The huge tail thumped the ground and the vicious yellow teeth were showing in a threatening hiss as the fight began. Claws were held at the ready, and Jacob knew from four narrow scratches along his back and side that they were more than sharp enough to cut flesh to ribbons.

He didn't get to see much of the fight. Jacob looked down in a momentary panic when something grabbed him under the arms and dragged him backwards and off the ground. He kicked and squirmed until he was held to a torso by green-sleeved arms ...  _Bowman!_

Jacob looked up in surprise, but Bowman wasn't looking at him. The sprite's eyes were wide and staring at the rat. His wings, which looked odd with the light illuminating them from behind, were half-unfurled. Bowman was ready to either bolt into the air or flare them wide in his fallback threat display. He was terrified.

When Bowman came alongside a keychain flashlight bigger than Jacob, he came to a stop. He still held onto Jacob protectively and sank to the ground. His wings shifted so they formed almost a full circle around both of them, Bowman shielding Jacob with his precious wings and refusing to let go of him.

With his breath still running fast, Jacob looked back to the fight now several inches away.

* * *

  
The first thing Sam did was go for the eyes.

This was far from the first rat he'd fought in his life, but it  _was_  the first rat he'd fought on his own. Growing up with Walt and Mallory, there had been more than one occasion he'd accompanied Walt to take care of rats that foolishly chose to nest nearby.

Killing the rats was self-defense on several levels. Not only were the animals aggressive attackers, striking out against both Sam's people and the mice that called the motel their home, they were also a major red flag that would call down pest control on the same vulnerable mice and people.

Pest control was far more of a threat than a single rat could ever hope to be. In the course of a peaceful afternoon, everyone that lived there in peace would either be dead, dying, or forced to flee their homes forever. There was no coming back once that tipping point was reached. Poison would linger in the deep nooks, coating their small homes and making a place of safety into one to be avoided at all costs.

Because of that, he and his adopted father would hunt down any rats that were on the prowl.

They took full advantage of any rat that they felled. Walt would skin the corpse before rigor mortis set in, taking its hide to be tanned into the same sturdy leather that made up Sam's satchel and the boots he wore every day. In fact, Sam had been the one that had landed the killing blow against the rat that had become his boots. They also took the meat, so long as the rat wasn't diseased or infected. It would be taken down to the steaming hot water heater and jerkied with salt from a recent kitchen raid. One rat would build up an emergency supply of food that filled their small pantry.

Sam was no stranger to the bloody fight he'd begun.

His first lunge came up short. The rat recoiled from the unexpected attack, eyes glinting at the much larger man that had materialized out of thin air to deprive it of an easy meal. Wasting no time, Sam used the momentum from his slash and spun in a circle, smashing a kick directly into the rat's snout.

With an angry hiss, it retreated even further back. Dexterous paws came up to check the damage. Refusing to give it time to regroup, Sam lashed out once more, this time sinking his blade into a paw.

First blood was drawn.

The rat drew its paw back with a strangled hiss, dragging the smaller Sam through the dust with it. It had been out searching for an easy meal, never expecting to find its territory infringed upon by an interloper with a long fang that bit so deep.

Sam was outsized and outweighed. The rat was an easy ten inches long in the body alone, the scaley tail stretching at least another nine or ten inches.

To Sam, it was bigger than a grizzly or a polar bear. To Jacob, it would outsize an elephant. To both, its grimy claws posed a deadly threat.

There was one advantage that Sam had in the fight that Jacob and Dean had never even suspected. Not while he was small enough to completely restrain with only a single hand if they wanted to.

If Sam was to stand on the same scale as Dean, he would be well over three times as strong, if not stronger. The younger brother would not only be able to easily restrain the older brother, he could dangle Dean by the collar of his jacket, one-handed. His older brother would be nothing more than a kitten kicking at the air.

Sam wasn't as outmatched as he looked at first glimpse.

It was a side-effect of his curse. It had downsized him to a fraction of his height, but it also had increased his strength. It helped him to adapt to the others his size. There was a reason they were all such nimble climbers, able to scale surfaces that would make most humans blanch. Not just one or two of them, like humans, either - they could  _all_  climb like that.

Combine his increased strength with the skills Dean had drilled into his head with his knife over the last year, and the fight with the surprised and angry rat was an even match.

Sam tried to dig his heels into the wood grain below, but was almost yanked off his feet as the rat dragged him along with its startled flinch, he was so light. If it pulled him off balance, his strength wouldn’t matter. He changed tactics. The moment the rat chose to lunge for his throat, Sam dove at the ground.

His blade was yanked forcibly from the paw, drawing another high pitched yelp from the rat. Sam hit the ground in a roll, coming nimbly to his feet at the end.

Back on all fours with a limp, the rat twisted around, bringing its fangs back in reach. The long, scaly tail swept the ground of sawdust as it whipped away, raising a small cloud around the scuffle. Sam moved with it, keeping himself warily out of range of the snarling teeth. A crazed glare bore into him.

With a feral grin, Sam's next attack was a reckless lunge at the side of the rat. His blade found its mark where the muscle of the leg met up with the rest of the rat's body. He sliced through sinew and tendons both as he drew the blade across its flank in an uneven line.

He sprang back as the rat finished its turn, out of range before it could snatch at him again. The leg he'd injured now dangled limp at its side and the rat emitted a low moan more chilling than some of the spirits Sam had dealt with since returning to Dean. He’d hurt it  _bad._

This time when he slashed at the beady, malicious eyes, the rat couldn't move fast enough out of the way. It yowled in pain, the sound echoing up the walls around them. Sam distantly noted that they'd need to leave,  _fast,_  before any nearby humans discovered the source of the noise.

The vicious, desperate sounds of pain continued on as Sam shoved his knife further into the socket. The chilling scrape of metal on bone came, making the rat shudder as Sam gained the upper hand. Blood and gore covered both arms as he gritted his teeth and  _twisted_. The left paw of the rat tried to bat him away, but was too weak to do more than scratch at his arm, one claw snagging a sleeve.

The eye was cut out completely as Sam snapped his knife away. Nerve tendrils hung down, dripping a disgusting red ooze as the animal tried to backpedal away from its attacker. The eye slipped from his blade and dropped to the ground with a sickening  _splat._

Kicking off the ground, Sam landed on its back. With one swift motion, his blade hacked its way past grimy fur and into the base of the skull. He severed the spine. It was like cutting the strings of a marionette.

The rat gave one last twitch as he removed his knife, wiping the remaining entrails into the corpse. Stepping down, Sam's chest moved in heavy breaths, his pulse pounding in his ears after the deadly fight had finished.

* * *

  
Bowman and Jacob watched the fight with equal awe on their faces. Jacob could hear Bowman's quick breathing, since he was in his lap the way the sprite huddled next to the support beam. Those huge wings wrapped protectively around them. Bowman was not a fighter; Jacob knew that his instincts had to be telling him to flee with every beat of his frantic heart.

But, like Jacob, Bowman couldn't take his eyes off of the fight. They wouldn’t leave Sam alone with the monstrous rat.

Sam fought with a ferocity that Jacob had never realized he could be capable of. When he had first found Sam, he had come off as soft spoken and gentle, an understanding soul that complimented his older brother's much harsher outward demeanor. Even the cut Jacob had taken from that small knife was simple self defense, a move of desperation he couldn’t ever hold a grudge over. At first, Jacob had barely believed they were brothers, seeing the dissonance between them like the change from night to day, even without the obvious difference in size.

Now he didn't have a problem believing that Sam and Dean were related.

Seen like this, dimly lit from one side with a cheap flashlight, the fight took on an even greater intensity. Sam's shadow danced over the rat, while beyond both of them the light dwindled to nothing. Their silhouettes were visible in the dust they kicked up, the rat's thrashing movements at odds with the artistry in Sam's shadow.

By the time Sam struck his fierce killing blow with a feral snarl on his face, Jacob's eyes were wide. Bowman's wings were quivering with adrenaline, and his arms remained coiled around Jacob protectively. Even with the rat lying dead, it took a few seconds for the victory to really sink in.

Sam's arms and front were  _covered_  with gore. Jacob felt queasy just seeing his friend like that. "S-Sam," he called, not even trying to escape the shocked sprite's grip around him. Bowman, being a pacifist by nature, would need time to recover from what he'd witnessed. The sheer difference between Sam and the sprite was outlined in the blood that coated the hunter's front. Bowman might be just as stubborn as Sam or Dean, but he didn’t have it in him to fight so violently. "Sam, are you hurt?!"

Even the mouse huddled near Jacob and Bowman squeaked at the sight of the hunter as he kicked against the rat's corpse, nudging it to make sure it was dead. There was no movement past the sickly twitching of its paws as death settled over it.

Straightening, Sam tried to wipe his arms off only to realize that both arms were covered in a solid sheen of blood up to his elbows and gore spattered the front of his jacket. He could feel some drops of blood drying on his neck and face, too.

_So much for this jacket,_  Sam thought dispassionately, momentarily unable to focus past what was right in front of him.  _Dean's gonna flip when he sees this._  He couldn't even recall if he'd ever even told Dean about fighting rats like this in the past, so the entire situation might come as a shock.

He brushed off what he could from his front, flicking off droplets of blood onto the corpse. Once he'd done what he could, he stalked over to the others, falling into his past instincts from years of living in motels and doing his best to keep his steps silent. His knife remained at the ready, held now in a defensive grip Dean had taught him. Sam’s hazel eyes were bright and alert.

"I'm fine," he informed them both. "All it managed to do was rip my jacket." A hand rubbed against the tear, fingering it absently on the moist sleeve. Considering the amount of blood and gore covering him, the tear would be the least of his problems. 

He was honestly far more worried about Jacob, considering what had been happening when they'd found him. The rat had been  _seconds_  from a killing blow. Sam sank to his knees when he was only a few inches away, giving the others space considering his current state. The mouse squeaked again, a quiet noise of concern. "How about you?" he asked gently. "Did that rat... did it manage to hurt you?"

Jacob glanced around for the source of the squeaking noise, thinking another rat might be nearby. Thanks to the way Bowman's wings were arranged around him, the extra tiny human could only see Sam. His face remained a mask of shock as he stared at the man kneeling in front of him. Jacob gave the arms around him a nudge, and Bowman finally moved his wings out of the way and relented his grip on Jacob.

_Sam is such a badass,_  Jacob couldn't help but think. After his vicious duel with the rat he casually flicked blood away, walked over, and shifted right back into his gentle, concerned self that Jacob was accustomed to. If it weren't for the blood all over him, they wouldn't know anything had happened.

Jacob glanced down at himself when Sam's question finally registered a few seconds later. In the light, he could see his absolute covering of dust. It had probably bought him precious seconds escaping the rat's notice. If it had found him sooner, Sam and Bowman would have rounded the corner to a very well-fed rat and no Jacob. Unless the rat was a messy eater.  _That's a fucked up thought_.

Jacob looked himself over for injuries beyond the stinging ones he could feel on his back. When the rat had snatched him up in its paws, claws with fine points had made four even lines of stinging but not debilitating pain along his back. Other than the light scratch on his jaw, Jacob counted himself lucky that he didn't find any more injuries.

"Well, just--" he was cut off when he glanced to the side and met eyes with a grey mouse and stiffened. A squeak that somehow managed to sound  _concerned_  resonated out of the animal's throat. The mouse was bigger than Jacob, with stormy grey fur, a swishing pink tail, and round ears perked forward curiously. The many whiskers on its nose quivered as it sniffed the air and Jacob could see it was breathing fast, agitated just as much by the fight as everyone else. Jacob relaxed when no one else seemed bothered by it being there, even Bowman, who leaned his head back against the support beam with a thunk.

Jacob blinked at the rodent before hesitantly taking his gaze off it to look up at Sam. "I got a couple scratches when that thing grabbed me," he explained.

Sam frowned in concern at that. "Once we get cleaned up, we'll have to sterilize that wound," he said, thinking of the alcohol pads that Dean had in his first aid kit, carefully squirreled away in the massive duffel. "We can't risk infection. You're too small for antibiotics."

The mouse nosed its way towards Sam, hesitantly sniffing in his direction. He held out a hand, stretching his fingers open. The blood was already drying and sticky, but otherwise not a concern. "Not mine, see?" He was careful to keep the bloody limb out of the mouse's reach, not wanting to get their new ally gory. That mouse had saved Jacob's life.

Sam nodded at the mouse for Jacob's benefit. The smaller human was watching the rodent warily, reminding Sam that Jacob and Dean had differing opinions of small animals like that. "We wouldn't have made it in time without him. He found me and tried to tell me something. Almost tugged me off my feet to reach you in time. We weren't even close to you before that, at least a few motel rooms down the corridor." Sam gave a fleeting grin as the mouse nuzzled Jacob, light, twitchy whiskers against his cheek. "I think you've earned a new friend."

Jacob leaned away from the ticklish contact in surprise, though he couldn't stop the smile that crept onto his face in spite of everything. He realized, as the mouse seemed to check him over, that it must have seen him huddled in the corner after all. Unlike the rat, the mouse hadn't seen a meal. It saw a creature even smaller than itself that clearly needed help. So it went and found some not a moment too soon.

Fascination started to replace his wariness of the rodent now that he knew it was friendly. Jacob held up his hands, so small next to the storm grey creature. It sniffed at them, whiskers twitching and tickling at his wrists. Then it pushed its curious nose forward, snuffling at Jacob's hoodie. It nuzzled at his side and he sucked in a surprised breath, flinching when his aching ribs complained.

The mouse squeaked and backed off, then hesitantly moved forward again. There was a quieter squeak accompanying the barest brush at the same spot, this time without enough pressure to pain Jacob's tender skin. He hesitantly lifted a hand and brushed it back along the mouse's head. The fur was dirty from the dust that had shaken down on it, but very soft. Bright, intelligent eyes blinked up at him from the mouse's lowered position.

"Guess I owe you big time," Jacob muttered, a grin on his face. Who would have thought he'd ever say that to a  _mouse?_  Yet here he was, a mouse nudging lightly at his cheek with its whiskers brushing his ear.

Seeing his small friend okay and at relative ease helped Bowman break out of his daze. He'd never seen anything quite so violent in his life, except perhaps the wolf bite that Dean had gotten in Wellwood. That grisly wound had nearly poisoned Dean right out of his mind. Even then, Bowman hadn't actually  _seen_  most of Dean's fight with the wolves. He was too preoccupied being stuck in the jaws of one.

There wasn’t much of a view from the mouth of a wolf.

"Well, it looks like he wants to make sure you get back alright," Bowman noted, brushing his own hand over the mouse's soft ears. He shifted then, smirking at the fact that Jacob was too distracted by scratching under the mouse's chin to notice the sprite standing.

Until he picked him up, anyway.

The mouse and Jacob both gave surprised squeaks as Jacob's feet left the floor. Jacob kicked his legs in surprise. "Bowman, what the hell?" he complained, but that only served to widen Bowman's smile. He settled Jacob back down, mounted securely on the mouse's back. The small human immediately leaned forward in surprise, securing his arms around the mouse's neck.

"He can get you back to our room," Bowman explained as he stooped to heft up the light stick. He kept the beam from pointing in anyone's eyes, but he wouldn't be able to carry it and Jacob very easily. Sam, covered in rat blood, was out too. He needed to be wary of any other attackers, anyway. Jacob and Bowman weren’t exactly up to facing a rat like that.

"Jesus Christ, Bowman," Jacob muttered, rolling his eyes. His face heated up at how easily the sprite had placed him on the mouse, but he quickly had to pay attention as the rodent turned around curiously, trying to catch sight of the smaller creature on its back. Its tail thumped on the ground. Jacob could actually feel the naturally-speedy heartbeat of the mouse through the soft fur. It was definitely one of the most interesting things he'd ever done.

He reached up and ruffled the fur between the mouse's ears. That seemed to placate the worried creature. It squeaked at him before pausing to lick its paws and run them over its face, ridding itself of dust. Jacob was careful not to yank any fur out as he gripped it, sitting up cautiously on the mouse's back. He could feel every shifting muscle beneath him, lean sinews designed to get the mouse through tight spaces and quickly.

 

Sam pushed himself back to his feet with more effort than he'd expected. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off after the ferocious fight, leaving his limbs weaker than normal. He considered the long, thin corridor they'd walked down. "That's not a bad plan," he admitted. "We passed more than a few rooms on our way here. It's too far for you to walk."

He tried to clean his silver knife more, but the blood was already drying on it. He'd have to wait until they returned to the room to take care of it, along with the rest of the mess covering him up in spatters. He could just imagine how Dean would react when they came through that opening in the wallpaper again.

All that was important was that Jacob was safe.

Once he was certain they had everything ready and Jacob was settled on top of the mouse, he lead the way through the walls, his knife held at the ready. If another rat came, Sam would be prepared.

Bowman, in order to make sure Jacob and his new friend the mouse didn't get lost, stood waiting with the flashlight in his arms. He kept the beam angled somewhat downwards in case Sam looked back. It took a few seconds, but Jacob eventually managed to get the mouse to stop trying to stand up on its rear legs to sniff the air and just follow after Sam.

Bowman had to admit, it was amusing to see his friend scramble to wrap his arms around the furry neck before he slid right off the thing's back. Before Sam could get far, the mouse gave a squeak and scurried after him with Jacob in tow. Bowman brought up the rear. His wings were constantly twitching, almost like he could  _feel_  the looming darkness behind him as they made their way back to the room where Dean waited.

Riding a mouse bareback, Jacob was discovering, was a bit of a task when the rodent was in motion. Just standing around didn't give him an indication of how slick the soft fur could be. Luckily the mouse was patient with him when he showed signs of slipping sideways, turning its head to watch and make sure he wouldn't fall into the dust.

The mouse got distracted at times. Jacob found himself giving its ears a scratch whenever it stopped to sniff around in the dust, making sure it kept following Sam. The last thing he needed was to get lost in the walls a second time. The first time hadn't worked out very well for him, though he was in constant awe that he was  _alive_ because of the silly mouse that carried him now.

When they finally rounded the last corner, Jacob perked up at the sight of the light leaking into the walls from the room. Sam led the very odd group right up to it, his knife held at the ready the entire time. He wasn't going to let his guard down until they were all out of there. Sharp hazel eyes scanned their surroundings every step of the way, watching out for dangers Jacob was afraid to imagine but Sam had grown up with.

Since there was no need for the flashlight anymore, that was the first thing pushed back out of the wall. Bowman thought it'd be a good announcement for Dean that they'd returned. Then, he pushed the ruined wallpaper out of the way and looked at Jacob. "You head back first," he suggested.

Jacob nodded. His legs were jelly, but once he was in the safety of the room he figured he'd be able to just flop over for a few seconds before thinking about getting his stinging scratches taken care of. As he leaned forward on the mouse, clutching its fur for stability so he could swing a leg over the side, it darted forward. Jacob was surprised as it sniffed around the opening. He would have assumed that it would want to scurry away as soon as possible, with Dean waiting in the room.

Instead, his bold mouse decided to get him all the way home. Before Jacob could coax it back away from the opening, he had to hang on tight as it scampered over the edge (which would have been too high for Jacob to climb on his own anyway) and into the bright room beyond.

Jacob couldn't even see right away if the others followed. He just knew that his mouse was breathing faster from its risky move exposing itself in a human's room. It was smart enough to know that it usually wasn't welcome here. Jacob had to shield his eyes after so long in the total darkness. He heard the others come through the opening in the wall, but he couldn't see much of anything yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone needs a reminder that Sam is, despite his adorable size and fluffy hair, Dean's younger brother and just as much a Winchester, here ya go.
> 
> This was a fun experiment in action writing for me.
> 
> **Next:** February 7 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Don't forget to feed the authors! Leave a comment to let us know what you think.


	39. Triumphant Return

For the first ten minutes since the others had left, Dean simply watched the opening that lead into the bowels of the motel expectantly.  
  
It didn’t take long after that to realize that the expedition into the walls might take some time, when he took the size of Sam and Bowman versus the size of the motel into consideration. Instead of sitting there and holding his breath while he watched for them to return to the room, he decided he might as well do a quick scan of the room. Grabbing his other flashlight from an inside pocket in his jacket, this one the length of his hand, he started to scan every part of their room to make sure no stone was left unturned.  
  
He felt like he was pretty much twiddling his thumbs in the room while they went out into danger, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back over to the table to work on the research. If they needed help when they got back, he would be there for them.  
  
Nothing stood out, so he ended up abandoning that train of thought. In the end, by the time a small flashlight came skidding out of the small opening, he was just sitting next to the dresser again.   
  
Waiting.  
  
Hearing the small scrape down on the ground, Dean shifted his attention from his thoughts to the wall. He drew away in brief surprise when he saw a mouse slip out of the opening, the last thing he’d ever expected. He held off any instinct to swat the rodent away when he realized that sitting astride its neck, black hoodie standing out against a storm grey coat, was Jacob.  
  
 _Jacob._  
  
Still tiny and still battered to hell, but he was there. He was back, safe in the room.  
  
On a  _mouse_.

[Artwork by mogadeer!](https://mogadeer.deviantart.com/art/com-Jacob-and-Mouse-for-PL1-557136037)

Dean couldn’t hold in a smirk at the unexpected sight. “I see we should sign you up to be a mouseketeer,” he joked as he slid down onto his stomach to be more level with the others. Before he could go on with the joke, Sam and Bowman made their way into the room and derailed his train of thought.  
  
Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Holy  _crap!_  Sam, are you okay?”  
  
Sam’s arms and chest were covered in blood, and he held out a bloody knife in a defensive style that Dean recognized as one  _he’d_  taught the smaller hunter. The only part of Sam that didn’t seem touched by the drying blood was his pants.  
  
At the sound of Dean’s loud voice, the mouse squeaked in surprise. Sam ended up with the mouse huddled behind his legs, nudging the back of his knees as it tried to hide from Dean.  
  
Jacob was carried along by the mouse's whims, hidden behind Sam. While his eyes adjusted to the light, he ruffled the fur between the mouse's soft ears, trying to calm it down. It had been bold to come into the room with Dean right there, and Jacob could keenly feel the little heart pounding and the lungs working quickly.  
  
"Shh, bud, it's alright," Jacob muttered, too quiet for anyone but the mouse to hear. It was almost surprising how quickly he'd gone from being wary of the mouse to being fond of it. The fact that it had saved his life notwithstanding, Jacob was amazed by its quick thinking and intelligence. "He's just loud, not gonna hurt anyone."  
  
He had to hang on when the mouse, deciding it was safe to do so, sat back on its haunches to clean its paws again. It swept them neatly over its whiskers and ears and gave a quiet squeak. Jacob would almost guess the fuzzy thing was relieved.  
  
Sam wavered for a moment, the adrenaline almost worked out of his system in the long walk back to the room. “Uh…” he stared at the knife in confusion for a moment. “There was a rat that almost got Jacob. I took it out.” He held his arms out to the sides, trying to show Dean he was fine. “It didn’t get me, but Jacob got scratched.” He put a hand out, gently trying to cajole the mouse out from behind his legs so Dean would be able to see their friend.  
  
Bowman rubbed his eyes to get used to the brighter light again. He was faring better than Jacob, since he didn't have to sit in the pitch black for so long. He rustled his wings, scowling over his shoulder as the drawings and writings on it became starkly visible again. What he wanted was to get them clean  _immediately._  
  
"You think Sam looks bad, you really should see the rat," Bowman mused. "That thing was longer than my wingspan."  
  
"Yeah, I was ... I was totally gonna take care of it myself, but then Sam showed up and I had to see him in action," Jacob cut in, speaking up for Dean to be able to hear his soft voice. When the mouse finally inched around Sam, sniffing at the hand he held up, Jacob took a chance and slid off its back, getting his feet on the carpet. Even the worn out fibers rose past his ankles. He was so tiny.  
  
The mouse warbled out a concerned squeak and turned to him, blinking its big eyes at him and settling close. Jacob had to grin when it nuzzled at his cheek again as if checking on him.  
  
Dean watched all four of them on the ground, eyes still wide at the sight of Sam covered in gore, yet offset by the sight of Jacob being  _nuzzled_  by a mouse. He gave Sam a light nudge in the side to make sure there weren't any flickers of pain that his little brother was hiding. With all of them out in the open and safe with him, his instincts demanded he check to make sure Sam was really okay before anything else. He had to. “We’ve got to get you guys cleaned up.”  
  
When all he got was an annoyed grimace in return, and a small hand shoving his finger away, Dean backed off with a hand held out in mock surrender. “You’re like the returning heroes in a movie. You slayed the dragon and returned home with the princess and her royal steed.” He reached a finger out and carefully rubbed the head of the mouse. This time, with the distraction of Jacob and Sam steady by their side, Dean didn’t get the fearful reaction from before. It brushed one of its ears down with a tiny paw.  
  
Jacob's jaw dropped and he felt his face start to burn. He saw the bemused smirk on Bowman's face and knew he must be blushing fire from that comment. The worst part about the whole analogy was that Jacob couldn't even deny waiting around for a rescue. That was literally what he did. It was his best bet survival wise, but it still didn't make him look good now.  
  
"Well ... hey, I kept myself alive, I masked my scent and everything," he pointed out indignantly, brushing his sleeve. To prove his point, a small puff of dust flew off of it.   
  
The mouse shook its head and gave a disapproving huff, stirring up the little cloud.  
  
"Only reason the rat even found me is because it whacked me with its tail." Jacob’s excuses didn't make the red dissipate in his cheeks, so he shrugged exasperatedly. "Whatever man. The 'dragon' didn't bite my head off so I think we're all winners here, myself included."  
  
Bowman snickered, but the tears in Jacob's small jacket drew his gaze. The sight reminded him of an important detail they were all overlooking. "Maybe not, but it did scratch you," he pointed out. With a flicker of his wings that sent the dust spiraling away, the sprite added "You need to clean that up."  
  
  
Dean shook his head, still amused. "You  _all_  need to clean up," he agreed, eyeing the markings that still covered Bowman's wings and finding himself curious about the extra squiggles between the words. Like a little kid had been let loose in the house with a sharpie.  
  
He dropped a hand near the others, earning a curious sniff from the mouse. "I've got some alcohol wipes in my bag," he said to Jacob. "Once you get the dust off we can fix you up. We need to make sure you don’t get infected."  
  
Sam went to offer Jacob a hand, but found himself plucked up by the back of his jacket and deposited on the hand before he could do anything.   
  
"No offense dude, but I think Bowman can give Jacob a hand today." Dean grinned proudly. "You're just a  _little_  bloody there, mighty rat slayer."  
  
"Hey, I'd like to see  _you_  take on a rat three times your size," Sam grumbled as he crossed his arms to wait. He tapped a foot impatiently, grouchy he’d been consigned to the hand while the others did all the work helping Jacob out.  
  
Jacob took a step towards the huge hand, trying not to think about the fact that alcohol wipes sounded awful. He already anticipated the sting of the chemical would be much worse than the sting of getting the scratch in the first place. There were no grounds for him to argue against it, knowing that an infection at his current size would do him in too quickly to even have a chance of beating it.  
  
A nudge on his shoulder drew his attention back to the mouse. It squeaked at him. Jacob grinned and scratched under its chin, the storm grey fur softer than anything Jacob had ever felt before. "Thanks for getting me back safe, bud," he told it, and the mouse swished its tail back and forth a few times. One last nuzzle on his chin, long whiskers brushing his dust covered cheeks, and the mouse turned and slipped back into the wall.  
  
Bowman stooped to offer Jacob a hand once he'd sent the rodent back into the walls where it made its home. At least now, it had the added bonus of the rat being taken care of thanks to Sam’s quick thinking and fast actions. With Jacob safely sitting on Dean's palm, Bowman stepped back from the hand to spread his woefully-besmirched wings, ready to take flight once Dean stood.  
  
Once they were all settled, Dean hauled himself back to his feet. Sam swayed in place, so he pulled the hand close against his chest, cupping the second around even for just the two steps it took to get back to the nearby table. He brushed off a few wrappers left from his snacks earlier before lowering the hand down to let the two off.  
  
On the table, Sam tried to peel off his blood-covered jacket, wincing at the sticky feeling the dried blood had left on his arms as he did so. The trip back to the room had taken them half an hour, maybe longer. He didn’t have any way to tell the time that wasn’t either on Dean’s wrist or in the motel room.   
  
Dean stepped away from the table, trying to think of what they could  _all_  use to clean. Hopefully the marks would come off of Bowman’s wings… he couldn’t imagine how angry Bowman would be if he couldn’t get the marks off. Not to mention if the sprite’s natural camouflage was ruined, it would lower his chances of survival in the forest, making him easier to spot.  
  
And all because he was helping out the humans that had  _kidnapped_  him a year ago.  
  
Dean grabbed the soap dish from the nightstand, and eyed the small Dixie cups that were left near the coffee pot. They should be about the right size for Sam and Bowman to use…  
  
He took everything over to the bathroom sink, running the water at a warmer temperature. Filling two cups and the shallow bowl that was used for soap, he gathered up everything, plus one of the few remaining clean rags in the room. He might have to grab some extras off the cleaning woman’s cart sometime the next day. At this rate, they’d have nothing clean and there was  _no way_  he’d ever let a maid into his room. Aside from the fact that they might see the massive amount of weapons or catch sight of his store of fake ID’s, Sam’s stuff was around and would raise suspicion if it was ever found. The  **DO NOT DISTURB**  sign was left on the door at all times.  
  
Dean might be paranoid, but considering his lifestyle and the size of his brother and his friends, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.  
  
He set up the supplies on the table, leaving the two cups of water, the shallow bath, the rag, and a bar of soap, along with the small caps from the shampoo and conditioner full for the others to use and settled himself at the table. He dragged his duffel over and started to go through the pockets to find the alcohol pads in the first aid kit.  
  
Jacob, still sore from all of his ordeals but not as hungover this time, had less difficulty hoisting himself into the soap dish full of water. Almost immediately the dust he'd coated himself with drifted away from him in the soothing warm liquid. That dust had possibly saved his life, buying him just barely enough time for Sam to come to his aid, but it was uncomfortable and scratchy and he was glad to be able to get rid of it.  
  
Bowman watched to make sure Jacob wasn't going to slip and hurt himself in his dish of water. The small human scrubbed at his dust covered clothes, which he hadn't even bothered to brush off first. His hooded jacket remained on as Jacob ducked under the water to comb vigorously at his brown hair with his fingers, and the tiny hood wavered behind him. Bowman frowned when he saw the faintest trickle of blood at Jacob's back, filtering away from him like the tiniest red wisp of smoke. Concern rose up in him for his best friend.  
  
Bowman turned to his own large basin of water. With a frustrated huff, he held his wing in front of himself to see the damage. Bowman's disgusted scowl settled onto his face and he dipped a hand into the water, scooping it onto the carefully-angled wing. At first, he thought the water was having no effect whatsoever on the markings. He breathed a sigh of relief when the ink started to run, coming up with some effort scrubbing. The process would probably take him a little while, but when it came to caring for his wings, Bowman spared no expense.  
  
After several minutes of carefully getting rid of every last piece of drywall and sawdust stuck to him, Jacob climbed out of the soap dish with only a little extra difficulty than when he got in. The slick sides combined with the fact that he was already shivering from cold hindered him just enough. At least the washcloth Dean had set aside worked quickly to get him dry.  
  
That done, he unzipped the black hoodie and shrugged it off, wincing when the action agitated his many accumulated bruises and now four shallow but stinging cuts on his back. Jacob examined the jacket in his hands, finding four holes torn in the back that he could fit a few fingers through. So much for that jacket. His shirt probably hadn’t fared much better.  
  
Sam did the same as the others. With his front completely soaked in blood, he had to pull off his formerly grey t-shirt. That got dropped on top of his discarded jacket. Hopefully they'd come clean, but he knew with blood that was a losing battle.  
  
Bare chested, he took a moment to dispassionately examine the stains on him. Only his forearms and chest were completely covered. The rest of him had escaped with blood splatters. With a sigh, he made his way over to his own cup of water the scrub off the gore.  
  
While the others were hard at work, Dean, having found his alcohol pads, rested his head on one arm. He left the first aid supplies alongside his arm.  
  
It was almost fascinating to see Sam with his jacket and shirt off. The kid was sheer muscle from head to toe after years of climbing and survival. Even Dean could see the muscles ripple when he moved. Sam dipped both arms into the water up to the elbows and started to scrub. A red cloud billowed in the water.  
  
To avoid staring and making Sam self-conscious, Dean turned his attention to Bowman. While the sprite began to work on one wing, Dean pinched the other, cautiously opening it up a little. Bowman threw a glance over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at the grip on his wing, but he didn't stop Dean; his handling was far,  _far_  gentler than when he'd scooped Bowman and Sam up like toys and stretched Bowman's wing out near its tearing point. Bowman trusted the human now, even if it felt weird to have someone open up his wing like that.  
  
There were doodles between all the words of the strange man's clue, like a kid had just started drawing every crazy design they could think of. "He really did a number on your wings," Dean commented, remembering the sprite's surprised convulsions when the markings first appeared. "Do you need anything else to clean these?"  
  
Bowman paused in his scrubbing for a moment. The ink, whatever it was made of, was tough but it was coming off of the leafy membrane of his wing. At least he didn't seem to be rubbing anything raw; even just gliding would sting fiercely and only serve to aggravate the sprite even further. Who did this guy think he was, messing with Bowman's  _wings?_  
  
The sprite shrugged, though he still didn't tug his wing away from Dean. The human was only curious about the stupid markings. Bowman would be too, if they weren't written on  _him._  "I don't know if anything else will do it faster," he admitted. "I just wish that mushroom heap hadn't left his stupid clue on my wings. I can still feel this ink, it's awful." It was the faintest feeling, as though something was crawling on him.   
  
Jacob frowned at the expression on Bowman's face, seeing both annoyance and dismay. The sprite was more upset about things than he let on, and it was obvious to his miniaturized best friend. It wasn't often that Bowman looked  _really_  harried. He usually just played up his agitation with things for show (and sometimes for an excuse to try to bop Jacob on the head, though Jacob had been getting pretty good at waving him away).  
  
While Dean held Bowman’s wing open and stared curiously at the markings on it, Sam made his way over to the alcohol pad, scooping it up. He sat next to Jacob's bowl, yawning. "Lemme know when you're ready," he said, exhaustion coming over him. The thought that he really needed to ask Dean to grab him his bag of clothes came over him for a moment before slipping away again.  
  
Jacob sighed and glanced up at Sam, knowing he was the cause for both of their states. Sam may have been victorious against the rat, but he was exhausted and he looked it. What could Jacob say?  _Sorry I'm tiny and completely useless against whatever this creep throws my way_  was a little too self-deprecating, and saying it out loud would only be discouraging.  
  
He didn't need to make them deal with how shitty it made him feel. He could handle it without adding something new to their pile of worries.  
  
"Yeah, I guess I'm ready," Jacob finally answered, going to lift up his own shirt. The scratches were long and narrow, and obscured almost completely by the dark blue fabric except for the row of four matching holes in the shirt. He winced when the motion caused the still damp fabric to slide past the cuts, making them sting. Unfortunately, that was nothing compared to what was coming.  
  
Jacob was almost surprised himself at the state he was in once he pulled his shirt over his head. His torso was like one mottled bruise after all of his accumulated experiences. His front and sides sported angry purple and some red from the contusions, many of them from being pinched tightly in a rough grip. Others were from jostling around with coins heavier than him, and the rest ... Jacob had to clench his jaw and force the thoughts away before memories of being trapped in a mouth overwhelmed him yet again.  
  
The cuts that began on his back, innocuous seeming things from where the rat's claws dug into him, were the most life-threatening. It had wrapped its enormous paws around him with ease, trapping his arms and leaving his kicking legs next to useless. Those gigantic rodent teeth would have shredded into his torso, leaving Jacob bleeding out fast and gasping for breath when all he could get into his lungs was blood. When the rat lifted Jacob up to strike, those claws had dragged towards his side, leaving the four parallel scratches easily visible on his back. Any one of them could get an infection that would kill him.  
  
Jacob sat down, trying to look over his shoulder at the injury but unable to see it. He knew he put himself low for Sam's reach, but standing might result in him flinching away, only prolonging the process. "Well, here goes nothing, right?"  
  
Dean finally released Bowman's wing, letting the sprite fold it back down as his attention was caught by all the injuries that covered Jacob's torso. His breath caught in his throat at the sight, and it was made worse by the reminder that  _he'd_  caused some of them. The memory of Jacob dangling in midair in a stranger's grasp rose to the front as well; Dean might have been able to catch him as he fell, but there was almost no chance of Jacob coming out of it uninjured. Dean tucked both arms beneath his head and settled to watch over them as Sam took care of the injuries.  
  
Sam stretched a hand out, lightly touching at the marks. His hand alone covered almost the entirety of Jacob's back without a problem. He carefully traced the scratch marks. "Thank god they aren't any deeper," he said, relieved.  
  
"You might want to hold your breath," Sam warned as he took his hand back and ripped open the packet. The pungent odor of the alcohol rolled forth, surrounding them as he pulled out a wipe the size of a wet blanket.  
  
Jacob had to suck in a quick breath and clamp a hand over his mouth and nose as the smell of the alcohol settled around him. The fumes were always heady, but he'd never realized how much they'd affect someone with smaller lungs. His lungs were absolutely tiny. One of his eyes shut, already watering, before Sam even finished his explanation.  
  
"On three, alright?" Sam said. "One ..."   
  
The fumes themselves actually felt like they prickled at the cuts. Or, it might have been his imagination. Jacob couldn't be sure, but he began to tense up wondering how amplified the stinging would be when--  
  
"Two."  
  
Sam touched it against Jacob's back early, breaking the anticipation that would make the small hunter stiffen up on 'three.' It was an especially effective method if anyone ever dislocated a shoulder.  
  
Jacob straightened up and his held breath rushed out of him in surprise. "Fuck!" he wheezed, his sense of climbing anticipation broken entirely as liquid fire seeped into his tender skin. The burn lasted for a few seconds before calming back down, feeling like simple cool liquid in place of the fiery sensation.  
  
Jacob sighed, feeling the medicine already drying out on his skin. "Shit, dude. You really got me there," he admitted with a breathy chuckle, before covering his mouth and nose again to guard against the lingering fumes.  
  
Sam gave a slight laugh at that as he finished up, eyeing the raw cuts as he pulled away the wipe. “Better than an infection, trust me.” He tossed the wipe as far behind him as he could.   
  
It was immediately swept away by Dean, who’d noticed both of their reactions to the pungent fumes during its use. Crumpling it in a hand, he grabbed the wrapper as well and tossed them into the nearby trash to discard them.  
  
Sam frowned slightly at the marks. “We should try and wrap those cuts,” he stated. “That way no infection sets in, especially since your clothing… has been through a lot the last few days.” He glanced up at Dean beseechingly, who caught onto the same line of thought immediately.  
  
The normal methods of wrapping wouldn’t apply here. Gauze would be riddled with holes at this size and just about useless to wrap up Jacob’s chest. Bandaids were out of the question. The sticky substance used to adhere them to skin was too powerful for Sam’s skin, nevermind Jacob. If they tried to remove it, it could very easily take his skin along with it.  
  
Instead, Dean ended up grabbing one of Sam’s extra blankets, slicing off an edge of the thin fabric. Sam took it and wrapped up Jacob’s chest, covering up the bruises and the cuts alike. “Maybe it’ll help cushion against more damage,” Sam said hopefully. “With any luck we can keep you from getting any more bruises.” He finished with a twist, wrapping it so it wouldn’t fall off.  
  
Jacob didn't once argue against having the cuts bandaged up, though it momentarily struck him how closely the others were paying attention. Even Bowman glanced over from his diligent work cleaning his wings to see that Jacob was getting his injuries properly covered. Once the bruises and cuts disappeared behind a layer of thin fabric, the sprite focused again on his own marks. Jacob felt for a second like a little kid.  
  
"Thanks," he said, gladder than ever that, regardless of how small and helpless he was, he wasn't on his own. If he'd been dropped into this situation without any way to get his friends' help, Jacob would probably already be dead. The guy who'd done this to him wasn't exactly pulling any punches.  
  
Jacob pulled his shirt back over his head, careful not to get it caught on Sam's bandaging work and pull it off. He eyed the holes in his hoodie once more before pulling it back on over his arms. Maybe his clothes had been through a lot of shit, but they were literally the only thing in the world sized properly for him. He wasn't about to let go of them so easily when that hoodie was the only thing he had to keep the chill at bay.  
  
"Hey, good as new, right?" he quipped, trying for a nonchalant grin. It mostly worked, though Jacob knew he was just getting more and more bedraggled with each trial thrown his way. At least he'd managed to get plenty of sleep before being thrown into the walls. He was exhausted now, but he might have passed out if not for that.  
  
“Right,” Sam said dryly. He brushed his hands off before standing up, wavering in place from his own exhaustion. He’d never taken on a rat like that on his own before. Walt would be impressed with him for triumphing without getting any strikes. Taking on an animal like that was easier when you had backup distracting it from any attacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with the aftermath of the rat.
> 
> **Next:** February 11 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	40. A Look at What's Needed

With the injuries and blood cared for, Sam and Jacob relocated to the nightstand to rest for a bit, Sam still determined to stay close by Jacob's side. Dean left the television on with the remote control right next to the shirt they were using for a bed, so they could watch what they wanted while he worked. Before he started research, he dropped off Sam’s satchel and bag of clothing so he wouldn’t need to climb anywhere for the night.  
  
Dean ended up taking the soiled, bloody clothing Sam had left on the table and did his best to rinse them out in the sink. He held the tiny garments under a rush of cold water and carefully rubbed the fabric with a thumb to try and get the blood out before it set in too deeply. When he finished, he draped them on the side of the sink to dry.   
  
Bowman was still preening his wings with a very annoyed look on his face when Dean finally sat down to work on research, checking his phone religiously for updates from Bobby. They needed a way to break this curse. They simply couldn’t risk more things befalling Jacob. The memory of those awful bruises made Dean cringe.  
  
Sam watched some television for a bit, the shaking from the adrenaline rush wearing off as he sat there. Jacob was out like a light in no time flat, too exhausted after his long night and then his time huddled alone in the dark, praying help would come. Eventually, even the TV wasn’t a good enough distraction from the exhaustion. Sam flopped down next to Jacob, barely realizing he’d swept Jacob into his arms like a teddy bear yet again before he’d dropped into sleep as well, his breathing evening out into a steady rhythm as darkness claimed him.  
  
Jacob woke up as he became a teddy bear just enough to realize what had happened. He blinked owlishly at the rerun on the TV while he shifted, finding a comfortable position. His squirms seemed to catch the unconscious giant's attention, because an arm stronger than he could even hope to resist pulled him even closer and Sam buried his head against Jacob's back. Jacob sighed, already quite resigned to it. He felt too tired to try to squirrel out of Sam's grasp even if he wasn't.  
  
His eyes drifted briefly to the table an impossible distance across the room. He drifted off too after seeing the other two over there, both hard at work. Dean with his research, and Bowman with his marked-up wings.  
  
Bowman, for his part, made good progress. One wing was almost clear of the stupid marks when he decided to switch to the other one. The hard-to reach spots were going to be a pain and he wanted to put that off as long as he could. His cup of water had long since cooled, and had a blue tint from all the ink he'd washed off into it, though it was no less effective in scrubbing at the drawings.  
  
He glanced over at the book Dean pored over. One of the pages was taken up by a painting of a shiny person with butterfly wings giggling madly. Bowman's expression flattened as he recognized the human depiction of what fairies looked like. The shiny part was accurate, but pretty much everything else was wrong, from what Bowman knew. Still, he couldn't deny that small magical pranksters could certainly get a kick out of reducing a human as big as Jacob to the size of a nestling.  
  
Bowman huffed in frustration, putting the inaccurate picture out of mind. "This blasted  _ink!_  It's worse than the stuff we use in the archives!"  
  
Dean glanced over at him before turning back to his research. One hand brushed down the page on fairies as he attempted to hide a grin. "I dunno, small fry. If you look into wing markings like this you can be the first sprite that takes the archive  _with_  them. Just think of it! People could come straight to you to learn their histories."  
  
Bowman shot the human a glare, even flicking the wing he wasn't working on in annoyance. "Abso _lutely_  not!" he shot back. Not only would it look completely ridiculous, the very thought of people pestering him all the time about it was enough to keep the scowl on his face. "Maybe you'd like someone to leave messages all over your hair, huh? There's a lot more room on your head for a history than there is on my wings." He smirked, thinking he'd found the proper analogy to turn the annoying thought back on Dean, considering the way he prized his casually spiky look. "I'm focused on my appearance for survival, what's your excuse?"  
  
Dean's hand went instinctively to his hair. "If you really want to know, I use these awesome good looks to pick up the ladies when we're between cases. It works even better than Jacob's teddy bear disposition." He smirked, nudging the sprite in the side. "Not that he can do much if there's time to stop at a bar. Once he's 21 he'll make a good wingman. I'll even get to give him some pointers on poker by then. He can use his 'charming youth' to catch people off guard."  
  
A thought occurred to Dean that he'd never pursued before. "What about you? Do you have a leafy-winged lady waiting for you back home?"  
  
The question brought a faint smile to Bowman's face before he even realized it, replacing the annoyed look from Dean poking at him. "Yeah, I suppose I do," he replied, returning to the scrubbing. His courtship with Jiria was still somewhat casual; they weren't mates yet, but it had been going on for quite a while. She always kept him guessing, and even stole head starts in the races at night when the younger sprites all snuck out in the moonlight. Bowman still almost always won- he could never imagine  _letting_  someone win, especially a strong willed sprite lady like Jiria Petalkin. She would earn her victories, and wouldn't have it any other way.  
  
Bowman grinned, both sheepish and entertained. "Jiria will probably try to bop me for not telling her I was going." He didn't sound overly concerned by the statement even as he said it. After all, it was for a very good reason. Besides, if she wanted to bop him, she'd have to catch him first.  
  
"The king of 'bops' getting bopped? Unheard off." Dean laughed as he leaned back. A quick glance to the nightstand revealed Sam and Jacob both out cold and safe on the shirt, letting him relax. "I'm sure you’ll figure it out when you get back. We’ll get you back to her in no time. Everyone wants Jacob back to normal."  
  
Dean found himself wondering what would have become of Jacob if they had ended up leaving him in the village, a move that seemed like a good idea now that he could look back at everything that had happened.  
  
Would Jacob have just been teleported into Dean's pocket anyway? Only this time no one would even suspect he was there, putting him in even  _more_  danger than he'd been in originally. After all, a safe sprite haven wasn't a place that Jacob could learn his 'lesson.'  
  
The night passed slowly, with Bowman diligently cleaning his wings and Dean making no further headway in the research. The books provided a number of half-leads that only resulted in dead ends. Dean religiously checked his phone, but no messages from Bobby came through. They were stuck.  
  
By the time his wings were clean, Bowman was exhausted. He flexed the pristine, leafy appendages and stretched his sore arms before making a quick glide across the room to settle on the nightstand with the others. He was asleep before he could even check to see whether Dean planned to continue his research or get some sleep himself.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob thought he might actually be waking up, returning to awareness after all but blacking out the night before. Then he realized he was standing. The flat motel room table stretched out around him.  
  
_Goddammit,_  he thought, scowling briefly. The asshole who cursed him, nearly got him eaten  _multiple times_ , and dropped him on Dean in  _the middle of the night_ , had to be doing this. Jacob whirled around to look for him, either giant sized or Jacob-sized.  
  
He stopped abruptly when he saw Sam there with him. Jacob stared in complete shock. They were at the same scale, putting Sam just under Jacob's one and a half inch height.  
  
Sam gaped right back at him, in shock at the sudden change. He'd only seen Jacob at the same scale for a few minutes. He was used to the other hunter either looming over him like normal, or the more recent smaller sized Jacob. The last thing he'd expect was...  
  
His chain of thought came to a screeching halt when he saw their surroundings.  
  
Sam's knife was out in a heartbeat. "What. The hell," he snapped out in surprise, eyes flashing around at the scenery.  
  
The  _oversized_  scenery, even by  _Sam's_  standards.  
  
If he'd thought things were large before, this gave him a whole new way of thinking. The  _bottlecap_  next to him was a huge basin. The smartphone Sam had programmed had been left out, stretching out longer than Dean's hand at Sam's normal scale.   
  
It was  _immense_.  
  
His eyes were drawn to the rest of the room. The ceiling might as well not exist. It faded away into the darkness above, the only sign it existed a distant blinking red light from the fire alarm mounted in the corner. The steady blink gave the world an ominous feel. The beds to the side were on another level. Sam's breath caught in his throat at the sight of a movement from Dean as he shifted uneasily. He got queasy remembering that Dean could just about reach the ceiling of the room while standing on the ground. Being this small gave him a whole new appreciation of Dean’s size.  
  
Sam flashed a look at Jacob, the knife held out defensively. "This is what it's like for you?"  
  
Jacob thought a cat with its hackles raised couldn’t look as tense as Sam did, and he couldn't blame the guy at all. Jacob had been similarly tense since the moment he first looked up and saw Sam and Bowman towering over him. "Well, yeah, pretty much how it is lately," he answered with an attempt at a sheepish grin. He wasn't going to point it out, considering how bristled Sam was, but this was definitely a calmer moment. No rats or kids or enormous cups of beer... so far.  
  
"And this is how that shithead bothered me last time so he could pop up at any second," Jacob warned. He had no idea why Sam was with him this time, but he had a feeling that jackass would tell them soon, and in the most obnoxious way possible.  
  
"Awww, and I thought we got along so well last time," came a sarcastic, derisive voice from behind.  
  
Sam whirled around, knife at the ready. His breath caught in his throat that the sight of a man that towered over them both, casually leaning against the stack of books that Dean had discarded. The stranger was standing at Sam's regular scale, leaving both of them the size of a small child to him.  
  
"What is this?" Sam demanded. "Where are we?"  
  
The stranger smirked with a grand gesture. "You can call it my own little dream world. Perfect for keeping busybody hunters out of the way while I pound the lesson into your thick skulls. I have to say, the two of you looked  _so_  comfortable all snuggled up together, I couldn't  _bear_  to separate you. A Sammy and his teddy. Even Dean-O can't resist that one."  
  
A rare scowl flashed over Sam's face at those words. He tried to ignore the derisive comments, flexing his hand closed. "Why are you doing this?" Sam growled out. "He's done nothing to deserve any of this."  
  
Sam's eyes tracked the man as he sauntered forth, scanning them both from head to toe. " _Deserve_  it?" the man repeated. "Life isn't about what's  _deserved_. Or what's fair. No, this is about what's  _needed_. For everyone. If everyone got what they deserved, Dean wouldn't have been abandoned by his father.  _You_  wouldn't be cursed. And Jakey would be living a normal life with his family."  
  
Jacob narrowed his eyes and resisted the urge to take a step back. Those bright eyes full of mischief held both hunters in his gaze, and the stranger seemed to be doing his best to loom over them both. Jacob wished he had a knife of his own; he knew well enough by now that it wouldn't do any good against this man, but he'd feel better with some meager defense.  
  
His pocket knife, being in his pocket and practically microscopic, had likely washed away with a certain ale. Jacob clenched his jaw, knowing he was looking up at the guy responsible for that terrifying escapade, and he couldn't do anything about it.  
  
"Okay, gonna have to stop you right there," Jacob answered, bristling at how self righteous the man's speech was. Who did he really think he was? If he wanted his lessons to stick, why did he keep ensuring Jacob almost died? It only took a little push too far for all this bullshit to mean nothing. The way he talked, like it was some kind of  _punishment_  to be learning the ropes and becoming a hunter ... Jacob would never think of it that way. Having the chance to do some good and help people, and become such good friends with people that he'd trust them with his life? He drew himself up.  
  
"You talk this big self righteous game but you're full of shit. You're just trying to get me killed and you're dressing it up."  
  
The stranger shook his head. "All this time together and you still have me all wrong, Jakey," he clucked. "If I wanted you dead, there wouldn't be an out for you to find. All I'd have to do is drop you in some random motel a state away and there's not much you could do. But. What's the point of a game that can't be won? Remember, this is a  _game_."  
  
Sam kept himself between the stranger and Jacob as they were circled. It was like they were adrift on a lifeboat with the shark coming ever closer.  
  
It didn't matter, anyway. You can't stand in the way when your enemy has magic at their disposal.  
  
With a flourish, the man snapped his fingers. Jacob vanished, and Sam found himself suddenly his normal height. By the time the disorientation was over, he realized that Jacob was being held by his hoodie, dangling three inches off the table. His kicking and squirming accomplished nothing and he yelped in surprise at the sight of the table well below him all of a sudden.  
  
Sam braced himself, ready to leap the moment he saw an opening. "You son of a bitch," he spat. "Let him go!"  
  
"I see why Sammy uses you for a teddy!" the stranger declared gleefully without paying Sam any mind. Jacob found himself held close to the stranger’s chest in a very unwanted hug.  He released a scoff of disgust and squirmed as much as he could, pushing his hands against the stranger's chest in a vain attempt to win back some space, but he was smushed securely. Jacob winced at the pressure around his sore torso; it was just enough to pass over the threshold from irritating to painful, which he guessed was entirely purposeful.  
  
"Put me down!" he demanded, far less resigned to this jerk hugging him like a--  _ugh_ \-- teddy bear. He knew he had no better chance of escaping this guy than he did of escaping Sam's hugs, but at least Sam was a friend, and hadn't on multiple occasions dropped Jacob into an enormous nightmare.  
  
The stranger ignored his demands, and even coiled his arms a little tighter around Jacob, getting him to wince in pain. "Even Dean got to use the tiniest teddy ever last night... lucky he didn't squish you, right? His lesson comes sooner than you think."  
  
"God dammit," Jacob hissed, not giving up trying to twist himself free, to push away. "No one asked for your shitty games so quit being such a tool about it." He tried to level a glare upwards at the guy, but since he was crushed against the man's chest he couldn't manage an effective one. "You said Dean's lesson is coming, what the hell are you planning?!"  
  
"Oh, you'll find out soon enough. His lesson is a little  _extra special,_  if you know what I mean. Gotta pound it into that thick skull of his, after all." The man smirked. He turned his grin on Sam. "Oh, Sammy, don't think I can't see you over there." He snapped his fingers and the knife in Sam's hands vanished.  
  
Sam flinched, his hand tightening on only air. His plan of jumping the guy while he was distracted by Jacob vanished along with the knife, but he didn't let the disappointment show on his face. "Only my  _brother_  can call me that," he snapped, keeping himself tense and ready to jump.  
  
The stranger rolled his eyes. "You Winchesters are all so uptight and dramatic. Live a little for once. You should get out of the motel room, spend some time out in open air." He hefted Jacob's small form over his head. Jacob tried in vain to kick at his face. His legs were too short to connect. "Even Jakey could use a bit of fresh air after his adventure in the walls."  
  
With that, he tossed Jacob at Sam. Jacob flailed in surprise, his eyes wide with fear. Sam flinched forward, reaching for his friend when another  _snap_  filled the air. A bright light flared up and blinded Sam. His eyes were more adjusted to the dark than the light. Sam blinked, desperate to get his vision back and find out what had happened to Jacob.  
  
"Crap," Sam hissed when he saw where Jacob had landed in a heap. He protectively drew his hand close to his chest, causing Jacob’s dazed form to roll across his palm from the inertia. He stared around at the room in amazement.  
  
He was normal-sized.  
  
The beds were the size of normal beds, the table didn't quite reach his waist, and Jacob, all inch and a half of him, had landed safely in the center of Sam's hand right when Sam reached for him. Even Dean's sleeping form, still there in the dream world, was  _small_  compared to Sam now.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob scrambled to right himself and looked up, ready to gripe at the stupid son of a bitch for tossing him around and switching sizes all the time.  
  
But the complaint died in his throat; he wasn't in his tormentor's hand. He was in  _Sam's._  
  
And Sam was  _huge._

__

[Artwork by iamthetwickster](https://iamthetwickster.deviantart.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lulls grow shorter and shorter...
> 
>  **Next:** February 14 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	41. What Control Is

"Holy shit," Jacob whispered. He barely needed to glance around to know that Sam's hand was a lot bigger than Dean's. Jacob may have been dwarfed in Dean's palm, but he was even smaller in Sam's.   
  
For a guy that was normally four inches tall, Sam loomed overhead more than Dean ever could. Warm hazel eyes stared down at him, reflecting back his worry.  
  
"Holy  _shit,_  Sam." Jacob remained sitting on a massive lifeline, certain that he'd just topple over again if he tried to stand. His legs weren't strong enough.  
  
"Tell me about it," Sam answered in a soft voice that was barely more than a breath, still in shock. He reached his other hand towards Jacob, wanting to see if he was alright after his tormentor tossed him so casually. As soon as the hand got close, it was clear that his fingertip alone almost outsized the little guy.   
  
Sam snatched his hand back, cupping it underneath instead, to keep them both steady. He curled his fingers up around the edges and realized why Dean and Jacob did that so often.   
  
Jacob was so small Sam couldn't even feel the extra weight on his hand, and Sam was afraid to hurt him by accident. This was the first time he'd ever been...  _big_.   
  
"Did I hurt you?" he asked, ignoring the Cheshire cat smile on the stranger’s face.  In his peripheral vision, Jacob’s self-proclaimed ‘teacher’ crossed his arms, his eyes glittering darkly at them.  
  
Jacob's eyes widened. He'd always known Sam’s voice as a soft-spoken cadence that he had to pay close attention to in order to hear. Now, the sound of Sam’s voice rumbled overhead, reverberating through Jacob's entire skeleton, but somehow he recognized it despite the amplified volume. It was so different from what he was used to. Even the last couple days, with Sam standing much taller than him, Jacob hadn't actually  _felt_  his voice shaking through him the same way Dean's did.  
  
Jacob shook his head mutely. He glanced over his shoulder and stared wide-eyed at the enormous fingers he recognized as Sam's curling upwards to guard against him falling. They looked like a tidal wave, tall as they were. Sam was  _huge,_  and even if it was just a dream, the scale of him had Jacob’s mind reeling and his heart pounding.  
  
"Nah, nothing new is hurt here," Jacob clarified after a hollow moment of staring, realizing that Sam might not actually see him shaking his head. He'd been sure he would get hurt worse as soon as the stranger held him up by his hoodie.  
  
Again.  
  
The guy seemed fond of pushing his trepidation as far as it would go, dropping him and tossing him around with abandon. But Jacob wasn’t surprised.  
  
He remembered that he and Sam had been very near the same height when he was standing at sprite scale. Now, the disparity between them couldn't scream louder. Jacob felt  _small._  The ridges in the skin beneath him were keenly obvious to him; Sam's hand didn’t have as many calluses as Dean's without the years of experience repairing a car and building weapons, but it still wouldn't have any give if Jacob tried to push on it. He looked back up at Sam, shocked to actually be seeing his face at this scale, when he was so used to Sam's expressions being small and subtle, hard to make out. It definitely had taken practice to be able to read the small hunter, and even then Jacob was guessing a lot of the time.  
  
The stranger chose that moment to wander closer, grin broadening at the sight of Sam holding Jacob protectively against his chest. "So, how's it feel,  _Sam,_  to be back in control? That's what you always wanted, right? To be in control?"  
  
Sam tried to back away, hand almost completely cupped over Jacob and shrouding him from the stranger’s view as if it would protect him. "I wanted to be in control of my  _own_  life," he growled out. "Not like this!"   
  
 _Never this._  
  
The stranger halted, hands in his pockets. "We don't always get what we want, now, do we?" He eyed the hand that held Jacob slyly. "You better watch out for him. The tiniest teddy might be in some trouble today. Better keep him safe. But considering where you're going, who will watch out... for who?"  
  
Before Sam could demand to know what he was talking about, the stranger held up a hand, wiggling his eyebrows while his lips curled into a smirk that branded itself into Sam’s memory.  
  
Jacob frowned at the warnings. He couldn't see the man anymore, courtesy of a wall of protectively curved fingers that stood much higher than his diminutive height. There was definitely an unnerving tone and he could just imagine that fucking smirk. He practically felt the smug mischief in the air and couldn't say he was surprised when the  _snap!_  of the man's fingers echoed around them and hurtled them back out of the so-called "dream world" the stranger always cooked up when he felt the need to taunt Jacob directly.  
  
Things went dark.  
  


* * *

  
Dean slept a deep, restful sleep.  
  
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was supposed to be alert. After years of hunting, he knew how to keep himself just on the edge of waking if he needed to. It had saved his life on occasion, and usually helped him with knowing when Sam was trying to get his attention. Dean was usually ready to leap awake at a moment’s notice if he needed to, a weapon stashed under his pillow and quick reflexes ready to put it to use.  
  
If he was asleep,  _really_  asleep, Sam found it almost impossible to wake him, especially with how lightweight he was. More than once, Dean had found himself waking to an extra tiny bitchface glaring up at him from his fist. As long as this fateful week with Jacob went on…  _hopefully only a week, please don’t let it go on for longer…_  he was going to keep himself as alert as he could.  
  
Twisting the webs of chance, a certain Cheshire Cat smile floated through his sleeping mind.   
  
 _Time for rest, time for sleep, time to keep you in a heap_.   
  
Dean was pushed out of his hunter’s rest, and drifted into the comforting currents of a deeper sleep. In that state, he heard nothing as two occupants of the room vanished, and the third occupant was coiled into a trap of his own, a special design made just for him.  
  
It wasn’t until the sun had been up for hours, long, entrancing shafts of the warming sunbeams stretching across the room, that Dean came anywhere close to waking. His eyes scrunched together in confusion as he heard a strange rustling at the edge of perception. Hunter instincts prodded him, told him that something was  _wrong_. Something could be happening and he was  _asleep_.  
  
 _Wake up, dammit!_  A familiar voice raged in the back of his mind, trying to force the cloud away as the rustling continued and grew more frantic with each passing second.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob blinked sluggishly to lift the heavy feeling in his eyelids, regaining his bearings after yet another dream of being taunted and dangled and jostled around by his own personal tormentor. As he slowly gathered his awareness, he realized he was lying on his side on something plushy, pale blue, and a lot flatter than the rumpled up t-shirt on the nightstand.  
  
 _Where'd he send me now?!_  The dismay in his thoughts was almost cancelled out by his sheer annoyance. The more he realized that all of this was just a  _game_  for the  _thing_  doing it to him, the more frustrated he became.  
  
His eyes focused and Jacob's brow pinched. Horizontal bars were the only things he could see at first. And then, his sleepy mind caught up to the fact that, since he lay on his side, they were vertical bars.   
  
 _Is this a cage?_  
  
That question demanded an answer, and Jacob would have to be the one to supply it. He pushed himself up, covering a deep yawn with the back of his hand while the other sank into the material under him. His focus returned and he took in his surroundings.  
  
White wooden bars surrounded him on four sides, a pale blue cushion rested underneath him, and above him there was no ceiling. There was another "prisoner" with him, and Jacob glared at it accusingly as he realized where he was. His face erupted in a fiery blush, humiliation seeping through the many cracks in his stressed resolve.  
  
It was a crib. Jacob had woken up in a baby crib. He swatted at the teddy bear sitting in one corner, knocking the toy on its cutely smiling face.  
  
"If we find out a way to kill that bastard I'm gonna do it myself," he groused, heaving himself to his feet with a quiet groan as his ribs protested. The top of the crib was above his eye level. Wherever he was, Jacob was still woefully undersized. He stepped forward to peer between the bars, each hand lightly gripping one while he brought his face close to an opening between them.  
  
The room beyond the crib was tacky even in the murky lighting from the one curtained window, the still air and deathly silence only warping every detail further. The wallpaper and the carpet were thick but cheap, pulling up at the very corners and layered with dust, and the patterns were clumsy and uneven. There was a dresser with clunky, lopsided drawers and a lamp the size of Jacob sitting on top of it. The base was simple, but the shade was thick and painted with eclectic patterns in a brush three times too large for the intent.  
  
Against one wall was a large bed with a thick, heavy comforter on it that looked too stiff to be effective. Jacob wasn't very concerned with the blankets, because someone was resting on top of the bed.  
  
"Sam!" he barked, trying to get the larger hunter's attention. From what Jacob could tell, he was still just barely tall enough to be higher than Sam's knees. Sam fit the bed perfectly (almost too well; one booted foot hung over the end in his sprawl). The guy who cursed Jacob had put them somewhere at a larger scale, but with Jacob still smaller than Sam.   
  
 _What the actual fuck._  
  
Jacob rubbed his eyes, wishing it was easier to see. There was something off about the stillness of the air, but he couldn’t place it. "Sam!" he called again.   
  
Sam was out like a light, sprawled haphazardly on the bed and snoozing happily away. His poofy hair scattered over his eyes, but he slumbered on, peaceful breaths drawing in and sighing out.   
  
"Sam, wake up!"  
  
Jacob's voice wasn't enough. Even rattling the side of the stupid crib didn't earn any stirring from him. His voice died off without so much as a twitch, the silence muffling it again as if shaming him for daring disturb the peaceful night. Jacob grumbled to himself and reached up to the edge of the crib. With a deep breath, he hauled himself upwards, his legs scrambling for a foothold that didn't exist.  
  
Sharp pain blossomed across his chest from both sides and Jacob saw white. With a low yelp Jacob fell back down. He avoided bumping his head on the opposite side of the crib by landing on that stupid overturned teddy bear. Jacob couldn't make that climb; his injuries, wrapped up or not, were too insistent. He kicked at one of the bars around him, frustrated to no end. The dim, silent room taunted him with its lack of notice.  
  
"Sam, will you wake  _up?!_  " Jacob demanded sharply, getting to his feet again.  
  
No response. Jacob grabbed the foot of the teddy bear with a huff and hurled it over the side of the crib with everything he had, and the stuffed animal flew through the air to hit Sam right in the face.  
  
At least one thing went right.  
  
Sam’s rest came to an abrupt end. Something crashed straight into his face and dispelled the calm serenity of sleep. With a strangled grunt, he flailed his arms protectively to guard his face, managing to topple his way off the other side of the bed and crash on the floor in a tangled mess of his satchel and cumbersome blankets.  
  
 _Wait, blankets?_  
  
Confusion pushed away the strange cloud that hung over his waking, the cloud that was tugging at his awareness in an attempt to keep him deep asleep. He tried to untangle himself from the mess, blearily blinking around the room in a daze as he started to regain his bearings.  
  
Sam groaned as he pushed the hair out of his face. “What the hell,” he croaked. As his vision cleared up, he scrambled to his feet in surprise at his surroundings.  
  
Everything. Was.  _His size._  
  
And beyond all that, Jacob was standing in a crib.  
  
“I think I need coffee,” Sam groaned. He buried his head in his hands for a minute. “Jacob, that really you there?” he mumbled around his fingers. The room had an eerie, oppressive quality to it that Sam couldn’t understand. Its silence was almost mocking.  
  
Jacob sighed, leaning his forehead on the bars in front of him. "Unfortunately, yeah. I think this is really happening." At least he hadn't been dropped off somewhere on his own, though if it was yet another dangerous ordeal Jacob wished Sam didn't have to be snapped here, too.  
  
"Awesome," Sam muttered, finally climbing to his feet. He shook his head, trying to remove the last remnants of sleep from his mind.  
  
Jacob peered around the room, but he still couldn't place where they were. It looked just like any empty house that they might have cleared of vengeful spirits. He hoped he didn’t have to face a spirit at even this toddler size.  
  
At the same time, Sam took in the strange detail and the odd feeling of being in a place made for his size. A chill crept up his back.  
  
Something had to be wrong. His memories of how things were supposed to look were warped by over a decade of standing at a fraction of this size. Nothing had the same level of detail he was used to. Sam felt like he was looking at everything through a funhouse mirror.  
  
Jacob clenched his jaw before giving in and asking "Look, can you, uh, get me out of here? I can't climb out myself."  
  
Sam turned his wary gaze to the source of the grumbling voice, and the sight of Jacob in a crib derailed his growing concerns. He walked over with a slowly growing smirk. Dean might come off as the snarky brother, but the truth was that they were evenly matched. Sam, having more patience than Dean, found it easier to hold back most days.  
  
Today, with his head scrambled and his sleep interrupted, he had no intention of following through with that.  
  
He put a hand on the edge of the crib. "I dunno. You think I outta kid-proof the room first? Someone might be looking out for you, putting you away like this."  
  
Jacob's expression flattened and he pursed his lips. He almost couldn't fault Sam for finding it funny. The joke was just lying there in wait. Staring up at the smirk that had so casually moved in on Sam's face, Jacob had to roll his eyes even as his cheeks turned pink.

[Artwork by MogaDeer!](https://mogadeer.deviantart.com/)  
  
Winchester sass. Figures.  _Definitely brothers._  
  
"You think you're funny," he mumbled, leaning against the far side of the crib with his arms crossed. Then "Oh, I almost forgot, I found a clue while you were snoring away over there." With that, Jacob flipped Sam the bird, raising an eyebrow at him. Jacob may not be sassy most of the time, but hanging out with Dean and Bowman pretty often had sharpened his shit-talking skills.   
  
Being so small made it even easier to be cheeky. What else could he do?  
  
He was in a  _crib_  for God's sake. And still the size of a toddler. The guy who cursed him was probably laughing his ass off, wherever he was. It was useless to even pretend he might not be watching their every move. He definitely didn't put Jacob in the crib to look out for his safety.  
  
"Awww, it's okay," Sam crooned with the biggest grin on his face. He gently swept Jacob up into his arms. "I won't tell the big bad Dean about your little crib mishap. He would be  _so_  upset I didn't get pictures."  
  
Jacob had to roll his eyes at least one more time. He almost surprised himself by actually shifting his arms to make it easier for Sam to lift him up; he was getting way too used to all of this. If there was a lesson in this, Jacob hoped he was learning it. He hated feeling so completely dependent. He felt like he had all of the disadvantages of a smaller size but none of the advantages.   
  
At least Sam could  _climb._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C'mon guys, focus. You can have a sass-off later when Dean's around.
> 
> **Next:** February 18 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	42. Clipped Wings

Kneeling, Sam let Jacob down onto the ground, freeing him from his confinement at last. Once he was standing again, Sam was back to suspiciously scanning the room once more, unnerved by the odd size of things. They needed to know where they were and they needed to find Dean and Bowman again, that was for sure. The room offered no clues about where they were.  
  
Jacob didn’t have it in him to be relieved that he wasn’t as tiny as before. His scale was still weird. It was obvious that is self-appointed teacher wouldn't give him even a partial reprieve from being so tiny without a huge catch. Something about this house was dangerous. They just didn’t know what yet.  
  
He glanced up at the way Sam surveyed the room with obvious confusion and nerves. Jacob couldn't blame him; after over a decade at one scale, seeing things at proper scale had to be just as shocking as seeing them in giant scale had been in the first place. Sam was a wound up coil ready to spring.  
  
All of the stuff in the room was really weird. Jacob picked up a corner of one of the fallen blankets from the bed and ran his thumb over it. The fabric was scratchy and unwieldy. He furrowed his brow and his bad feeling about the place only worsened. The silence practically roared. He couldn’t even hear cars passing outside or even a rustling of trees. All was still.  
  
"Maybe we should explore this place a little further," he suggested warily, inching towards the doorway. A doorway which, Jacob noticed, had no door and no hinges either. It stretched well over his head and he frowned. Some doorways he had to duck, when he was the right size. Even without things being as monumentally huge to him as before, Jacob felt  _small._  He couldn't even get out of the stupid crib on his own.  
  
"Yeah," Sam agreed hesitantly. Something was niggling at the back of his mind while he searched around the strange room with Jacob. Hadn't the stranger  _told_  Jacob that Sam's size couldn't be changed? Had that been a lie all along, meant to goad Sam and Dean into an angry response towards Jacob? How else could Sam be standing in a house at a normal scale? Unless, of course, it was a temporary fix meant to give him a fleeting glimpse of what he couldn’t have, then tear it all away once more.  
  
He touched the threshold of the door, knocking against the wall with his fist. A solid  _thud_  came back, meaning he'd either hit a support beam on the inside or the walls weren't hollow the way he expected. The uneasiness in his chest began to blossom. The house almost felt like it glared at him for striking it, and the echo of the thud didn’t last as oppressive silence bore down on them once more.  
  
Leading the way out of the room, Sam found a hallway stretching away from them. Mirrors and picture frames lined the hall, along with a cabinet with drawers and a small arrangement of fake flowers on top in a heavy, lopsided vase. It was painted on the side in broad, blobby strokes, as if made by someone’s kid.  
  
Sam blinked at his reflection in one of the shabby mirrors, hand hesitantly going to his homemade, very much out-of-place clothing and brushing across an uneven, hand-sewn seam. If he really was back to normal, there was no chance he'd be blending in anytime soon, that was for sure. Not until he found a change of clothes, at least.  
  
Opening the cabinet drawers, Sam peered in. They loudly scraped against the sides of the cabinet. They were so cheap, they didn’t even have tracks. There was nothing inside, not even dust bunnies or cobwebs. Sam brushed his fingertips around the corners to be sure. Nothing.  
  
The sense of unease crescendoed slowly into an outright worry. Where were they? Everything about the house was made up of false grandeur and a looming presence that seemed to breathe down their necks. And yet, Sam couldn’t feel  _anything_  from his usual danger sense.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob walked down the hallway, his strides much shorter than the tall, lanky hunter that lead the way. He lingered under one of the picture frames, squinting at it in the dark. The frame had a few elegant curves carved into it, but the picture within was just  _printed._  Not a canvas. The edge of the paper was curled up in one corner, and the image was blurry. The eyes of the picture’s subject were unrecognizable. It made the dimly-lit place even creepier.   
  
He ran a hand along the wall as he continued past the cabinet, noting that the wallpaper with its clunky design was incredibly thick, like the old-fashioned kind in fancy houses. It wasn’t peeling anywhere in the hall, unlike in the bedroom. The carpet, practically threadbare under his shoes despite how thick it had appeared from the crib, didn't show any signs of having faded where someone walked over it for countless years. The place showed signs of being both old and new.  
  
Jacob didn't bother with the mirrors, since they were well over his head. He had no way to get a closer look at them. He passed another doorway, and gave it a cursory glance.  
  
There was another room, what looked to be a study. In it stood a desk with a big chair, and a poofy armchair tucked between two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. On first glance the desk and furniture looked fancy with their whirling carvings and high-backed designs, but Jacob could see the seam where the corner of the desk was glued together. About as cheap as cheap got.  
  
Wide, heavy looking curtains obscured the wall straight across from the doorway, but through the gap between them, Jacob saw that the window beyond appeared to be boarded up or something. He frowned and passed the room by without crossing the door-less doorframe.  
  
The next doorway was more promising. The room beyond had no windows, but in the opposite corner was the top of a wide staircase that curved down to the floor below. A clunky piano with the keys covered and the bench stowed beneath it stood next to the doorway. If someone were to play it, the music would filter down those stairs in an echoing melody. If the walls of the house didn’t absorb the sound like it absorbed all the other noise. Even Sam and Jacob’s breathing felt muffled.  
  
Jacob turned and called back to Sam. "There's some stairs here. Maybe there's a way out downstairs."  
  
Hearing the call, Sam caught up to Jacob. He paused in the doorway, weirded out by both the fact that he was almost tall enough for his head to brush the top of the door frame along with the sight of the idle piano. “Worth a shot,” he said when he saw the staircase leading away from them.  
  
Jacob was definitely getting the same feeling he'd get in old houses occupied by a vengeful spirit. A routine salt-and-burn, as Dean would call it.  
  
Except they had no information here. No idea why they were the sizes they were, and a mounting sense of  _weird_. Maybe the lesson was navigating at a smaller size while Sam had to fumble around getting used to being  _bigger._  All without Dean’s guidance, always patient with his little brother as Sam learned the human world.  
  
Whatever this creepy house was, they needed to get out of it and find their way back to the others.  
  
Sam took the lead, running a curious hand over the curved bannister. For the first time in years he was standing in a place catered to his own height… whatever  _that_  was at the moment, and he couldn’t have felt more out of place.  _Jacob_  should be the normal sized one between them. He was far more adjusted to this setting than Sam. The ominous nature of their surroundings was already setting off warning bells in Sam’s head. He didn’t even need to feel eyes on him to make his neck prickle with unease as the hairs stood on end.  
  
The stairs felt just as unsettling as he walked down them, hand gripped tightly to the bannister. It had been fourteen years since he’d last walked down a regular sized step. He should have to use his fishhook to shimmy up the sides, or take the long, sloped bannister, which would be a far more dangerous, but faster dash. Simply walking down the stairs was a memory far behind him.  
  
At the bottom, he came into a broad entryway into the house with doors leading to various rooms spaced around them. Spotting a window, Sam trotted over to it. If they could catch a glimpse of where they were, they’d have a better chance of directing Dean there after a phone was located.   
  
Sam frowned when he peered out, unable to see anything outside with the dark shadows that were cast over the surroundings. “Something’s not right…” he muttered to himself. He couldn’t even see stars in the sky if he looked up.  
  


* * *

  
Bowman couldn't move.  
  
This strange disparity made him wake faster than he usually did. At first, he drifted out of sleep like normal. His mind slowly reached towards awareness to brush at the sensations around him. His brow pinched in his mostly-asleep confusion at what he found.  
  
He wasn't curled up like usual after a night sleeping away from the forest, away from home. His wings were wrapped around him, but more like a bat's than as gentle blankets draped over himself. His legs and arms were all but pinned, almost like he was trapped in a hand.  
  
His bright eyes shot open. The sight that greeted him was not a view of a gigantic room from a nightstand, nor was it the strangely-shaped lantern at the back of the nightstand. He just saw a rough white material, wrapped all around him. Bowman looked up and saw a small circular view of the side of an enormous bed. He was surrounded by a roll of ... what was it again? A scroll that humans used.  
  
"Paper!" Bowman mumbled, immediately starting to squirm. The paper around him rustled dryly, but didn't budge. Bowman couldn't move at all. He grunted with the effort of trying to spread his wings out. They strained against his cylindrical prison, but couldn't push it away. Bowman struggled against it, only succeeding in rolling over a fold in what he guessed was the shirt he'd fallen asleep on.  
  
"Sam? Jacob? Dean?" he called out to each of his friends, hearing the way his voice echoed back on him, muffled by the paper. His struggles became more frantic as the trapped feeling really began to sink in. Bowman  _couldn't move._  If something came to take him, he'd be completely helpless against it. Worse, he couldn't even  _see_  if something were to do so.  
  
"Somebody help me  _out_  of here!" Bowman shouted, twisting in his cramped confinement. The paper around him shifted and rolled, but instead of staying where he turned over, it rolled over once, twice ...  
  
And right over the edge of the surface it was on.  
  
Bowman yelped, squirming even more as he plummeted. The falling sensation tightened in his chest and buzzed in his limbs. He couldn't get his wings open. His heart pounded at the thought that he could be falling from a deadly height.  
  
And he  _couldn't get his wings open_.  
  
Bowman felt a spiderweb of panic creeping over him. Loss of the ability to fly meant loss of survival in a normal situation. Flightless sprites in the village dared not wander very far past the borders, and young nestlings were monitored closely before they learned to fly.  
  
Now, Bowman was falling. Unable to open his wings, unable to do the  _one thing_  he was best at, his one line of defense.  
  
Unable to fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O Trouble~!
> 
> Important: my husband will be in surgery the 27th/28th of this month, so any updates those two days won't be posted, BA has been postponted to March 3rd and Jacob in Wonderland will resume the Sunday after. I will not be available for contact during that time.
> 
> **Next:** February 21 st 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	43. Patrolsprite

It was the name that did it.  
  
The sound of one of Dean's friends, scared and in trouble, broke through the barriers in his mind that had prevented him from waking for hours. The deep, 'restful' sleep he'd been forced into dissipated and Dean's eyes flashed open, staring around in confusion at his surroundings. A peaceful motel room surrounded him, and just as he was wondering what was going on, he heard that same rustling sound come from the nightstand.  
  
It wasn't a moment too soon that he glanced over at the nightstand. The second his eyes landed on the shirt, a wrapped up paper bundle toppled off the edge with a cry of fear.   
  
Dean was up in a second, his hand shooting out to catch it.  
  
The paper landed safely in his hand. His fingers coiled reflexively around the struggling form. "Son of a  _bitch,_ " Dean said as he realized that he could feel someone struggling inside the tape and paper trap. Frantic movements did nothing to budge the wrappings. "Hold on, I gotcha. Try not to move."  
  
He lifted his hand up, keeping his fingers curled securely around so there was no danger of them falling again while he worked. Whoever it was couldn’t calm down enough to take his advice not to move. Tape wrapped haphazardly around the bundle, and he started to peel off what he could. He managed to work open part of the cylinder at the top, revealing a mess of dark green hair and two bright green eyes staring wide open up at Dean. A touch of the panic from falling remained in them.  
  
_Bowman._  
  
While Dean continued unwrapping him, he shot another glance at the nightstand. A sense of dread filled him when he realized that Sam and Jacob were both gone.  
  
It was too much to hope that they’d just gone to the bathroom.  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
Bowman blinked in the light, his fear shifting into an annoyed scowl as he kept right on squirming to get free. Concentration was reflected in the larger green eyes above him as Dean worked steadily to free him. As soon as he was able to, Bowman wrenched an arm out of his restraint with a wince and pushed against the paper to speed up the process by a little bit. He still couldn't budge himself until Dean removed more of the bindings, but Bowman was never one to stop trying.  
  
When the paper was finally loose enough for Bowman to pull himself free, he scrambled out of it kicking and squirming so Dean could move it away. He propped himself up on hands and knees, breathing deeply after the fear of falling had wormed its way into his gut. He could have broken on the floor of the motel room if Dean hadn't caught him. Falling from a height like that hadn't been a concern for Bowman for  _years._  
  
His wings, cramped and uncomfortable in the tight confinement, stretched out with a quiet  _snap,_  making it look like a plant had suddenly grown two full sized leaves in seconds on Dean's palm.  
  
" _What,_ " Bowman began, collapsing over from the strain, "is going on?!" His wings draped haphazardly around him and over the side of the huge hand he rested on.  
  
He knew from the worried look on the face above him that Dean was not responsible for his confinement. Sam wouldn't have done it, and Jacob  _couldn't_  have, so it only left one culprit. The same one who'd drawn all over Bowman's wings and left him cleaning them for hours the day before.  
  
Bowman lifted his head with a frown and pushed himself up to look over the side of Dean's hand. The shirt was empty. No Jacob, and no  _Sam_  either. "Blast it! They're gone!" Bowman turned to look up at Dean with worry, hoping that maybe the human already had an idea.   
  
  
"No idea what's going on, but I haven't seen them." Dean held the paper away from Bowman, briefly glancing at the floor before he put his feet down. "Sammy? You here?"  
  
No response came, amping up Dean's worry even more. " _Fuck,_ " he muttered, echoing his thought from earlier. The paper caught his attention again as he remembered the way they'd been left a message the day before, scrawled across a leafy pair of wings. Maybe Bowman was, once again, the unfortunate messenger for the latest game.  
  
Tucking the hand with the flopped Bowman close to his chest, Dean held the paper out for them both to read. In script that was too elegant for the tone it conveyed, a message was set against the white paper.  
  
_Sammy, Sammy, he's a doll. What's he fear, most of all?_  
  
Dean read it out loud for them both, the childish rhyme falling awkwardly from his lips. His mouth went dry as he realized what it was talking about.   
  
Considering the way Sam unavoidably stiffened every time a child or a baby was near, it hadn't been hard for Dean to realize his brother's instinctive fear. He'd never pushed Sam around them, but they'd managed to have one or two successful encounters with kids. One of them was with a girl named Sari from their old house, a girl Sam had rescued all on his own, trusting her to carry him as he told her what to do.  
  
Even Sari’s quiet kindness couldn’t change the panic that came over Sam around children.  
  
Bowman frowned. After a pause, he pushed himself up so he was seated on Dean's palm, though his wings still hung slack. They hadn't yet forgiven him for the fall, and were alight with adrenaline. "What's he fear..." he said, an absent look on his face and an absent murmur in his tone.  
  
A doll? Bowman wrinkled his nose at the thought. To a giant human, he supposed, someone sprite-sized was easily mistaken for a toy. Jacob had illustrated that possibility in the enormous library the other day in frightening clarity.  
  
Bowman raised his eyebrows in realization as he thought about that rescue in the library. How Dean had distracted the human boy by pretending Sam was a toy. Bowman had been practically twitching with nerves at the time, but he remembered the rigid set in Sam's shoulders, even though he had been held in Dean's large, safe hands. And he remembered how Sam had shaken when he retrieved Bowman and Jacob from the safe room in the Impala.   
  
Sam feared  _children._  
  
"... So. We need to find a place with lots of human nestlings, then?" Bowman guessed, crossing his arms. He had no idea if his suggestion would be correct, but what choice did they have? Sam and Jacob needed to be found as soon as possible, and the only way to make it happen was to start looking somewhere.  
  
"Yeah..." Dean trailed off, deep in thought. "Shit, Sam..." His brother, out there near kids and all on his own. Even worse, Jacob could be anywhere. They could only  _hope_ the two had landed together, letting Sam watch out for the smaller hunter even if he was forced to face his fears.  
  
While his mind wandered, trying to come up with a place with children everywhere, the slip of paper that had trapped Bowman and given them their taunting clue fell out of his fingers. It landed an inch away from Dean's boot, ignored completely now that the taunting words that adorned it had been read. The hand holding the sprite didn't move, remaining steady for the last person Dean had left for support.  
  
His mind latched onto a memory from arriving in town the last few times. "There's a park," Dean recalled. "We pass it on our way into town every time. Sam always watches it like a hawk. Even if he knows he's safe in the car or with me, he refuses to let his guard down. I always wanted to break that for him, let him know I'd always watch out for him, but now..."  
  
He stood abruptly. If Sam was there with Jacob, they had no time to waste. "I told him I'd watch out for him and here I am, miles away while he's in danger..." The words were more for him than Bowman, but they slipped from his lips anyway.  
  
Bowman pursed his lips and sighed. He recognized the wistful tone of voice Dean used. He knew that if he let him, Dean would wrap himself in a cocoon of guilt and never break out of it. They needed to focus on what they  _could_  do, rather than what was out of their control.  
  
Bowman got to his feet, flicking his wings pointedly before taking flight. He darted up to Dean's eye level, hovering in front of the human with his fists on his hips and a dark green eyebrow raised. Bowman was scared for Sam and Jacob, too. If there was one thing he was good at besides flying, it was covering up his fear with the defiant attitude he showed now.  
  
"Well, I  _know_  you know it isn't your fault," Bowman said with a look that dared Dean to say otherwise. "This whatever-he-is has been messing with Jacob, and now he's messing with Sam. No idea how he's doing it, but we can't stop him yet. What we can and  _have_  to do is just go get 'em back."  
  
Bowman crossed his arms then. Going to a place with a lot of human children ... it might not be as nervewracking as the library with all of its corners and strange angles. It might be much worse, but Bowman had come along to help, and that's what he would do. "You've got a patrolsprite to help you. My whole job is to look for things. So ... open up one of your stupid pockets, I have to hide 'til we get there."  
  
Dean was taken aback at first, but he heard the challenge in the voice. He took a deep breath, then propped open his chest pocket. It would rock less than the side pockets, and without Sam around, there was plenty of room for Bowman.  
  
_He’s right. We’ll get them back. No matter what it takes._  
  
He gave Bowman the most confident grin he could muster (not confident at all) and said, "Time to get this show on the road, then."  
  
Bowman fluttered down, landing on the side of Dean's hand. Pausing just long enough to fold down his wings, the sprite hopped willingly into the pocket, any hesitation at the size of Dean long since gone. His lightweight form came to rest at the bottom as Dean let the flap drop down again, blocking him from sight. From the outside, you could barely see that there was even a lump.  
  
Before leaping into action, Dean protectively smoothed his hand down over the pocket. After losing Sam and Jacob, he refused to lose Bowman as well. He was the only protection they had out here.  
  
Once he was certain Bowman was settled, Dean was on the move. He grabbed his keys and cell from the table, shoving them into his pants. Wallet soon followed. He paused at the sight of Jacob's phone, then with a shrug pocketed it in his pants. He had no shortage of pockets, that was certain.  
  
Shrugging on his jacket, he darted for the door.  


* * *

  
The air was peaceful when the Impala rolled up to the park.  
  
Families were out in the warm summer air, enjoying the calm weather. Children were laughing in the distance, a game of freeze tag in full swing over by the trees.  
  
Dean tensed at the sight. After a year with Sam around, Dean always recognized when the small body of his brother froze at the sight of children, and it became harder and harder for Dean to see them as harmless. Any of those kids could grab the small hunter or the  _smaller_  hunter, and they'd be helpless.  
  
Dean scanned what he could see of the park. It was expansive, with trees dwindling into the distance. A very large haystack to search for two very small needles.  
  
"I hope you're ready for this," Dean muttered to himself as he climbed out of the car. With Bowman tucked against his chest like that, there was no way the sprite  _wouldn't_  hear him.  
  
The moment he reached the treeline, Dean ducked behind a tall oak. "Don't get yourself in trouble, alright?" He opened up his chest pocket for Bowman. "Just find me if anything happens. If you can't find me, there's always the Impala. She'll watch out for you when I can't."  
  
Bowman pulled himself up to the edge of the pocket, using his wings for balance. Even as Dean spoke, Bowman's eyes wandered past him to notice the soft green canopy above. An oak tree, something all too familiar from home. Bowman looked around as he dragged himself out of the pocket, pleased to see so many similar trees around. They were spaced quite far apart, but it was a small sense of familiarity that made his mission slightly less frightening.  
  
He was about to go wandering among humans  _again_.  
  
At least this time he would actually have some camouflage. The trees above would mask him almost perfectly. If he needed to get a look closer to the ground, stone planters dotted the park with well-manicured underbrush growing in them. The faint sweet smell of flowers drifted on a breeze.  
  
"I'll see what I can find," Bowman muttered, spreading his wings. He darted straight up first, quickly concealing himself among the oak leaves. He could only hope that, wherever Sam and Jacob ended up, they had managed to hide before being snatched up by some curious child. Bowman knew Sam was quite strong, especially compared to the wood sprites, but even an infant giant would be able to keep him in place if they wanted. He didn’t even have wings to escape with.  
  
With a shudder, Bowman darted to the next tree, closer to the more populated area of the park. He could see colorful metal and plastic structures, which several children climbed and played on happily. Interspersed around those were round stone tables with curved benches set near them. An open grassy area let the sunshine reach the ground unhindered, except by the kids running around chasing after each other or sitting and playing quietly while their parents looked on from the tables.  
  
Bowman sighed. There were a lot of humans around, whether or not he had plenty of cover. He'd have to do his searching carefully. Deciding on a small group of children sitting near the edge of the open space to start, he flitted to the nearest tree. A circular flowerbed beneath it included a lavender plant, like a green and purple burst of color that sent out a fragrance Bowman could smell from all the way up in the tree.  
  
He hesitated, and then dove right for it. Bowman landed among the flowers gracefully, tucking his wings close and lingering near the cover of the lavender. From this angle, the young humans several feet away were much taller than him even sitting down. Swallowing his nerves, Bowman crept forward as much as he dared. He had a good angle on the toys in their hands as they played.  
  
The dolls, with their painted on smiles and plastic hair, were the right size, but none of them were Sam. Bowman watched for several seconds, making sure each one was accounted for before sighing. First time couldn't be it, anyway. With their luck, it would never once be that easy. He flitted back up into the oak tree before peering around for another place to look.

 

* * *

  
It felt like it took him an age to comb just a small area of the park without being noticed. At one point, Bowman reported back to Dean, just to make sure the human knew his status. The hunter was no less worried than before, his eyes wide at the thought of the danger Jacob and Sam could be in that very moment. Bowman didn't linger, instead tirelessly returning to his search.  
  
He hid near the base of a very weak lilac bush, watching a family at one of the tables. A mother rocked a baby while two young sisters climbed on and under the opposite bench, giggling at each other. It was easier to dismiss this family, but something kept him watching their table intently. Bowman would almost think he  _couldn't_  look away. Despite his mounting unease, he couldn’t take his eyes away from that direction.  
  
When he finally did, it was to notice a shadow.  
  
Bowman whirled around and looked up at the source. A young girl, no more than Rischa's age, was crouched right next to the lilac plant. Bowman's heart skipped a beat. Those big eyes were locked on him. He gasped and opened his wings to dart away just as her hands surged at him.   
Bowman's wings were pinned to his side as the girl's hands clapped shut around him. He cried out in more surprise than pain as she snatched him up, ignoring his thrashing. In fact, though she grinned at him with awe for several seconds, eventually she adjusted her grip, forcing Bowman to curl up so she could enclose him completely in her hands.   
  
Though he kicked at her and his wings pulsed frantically, Bowman could do nothing to escape her grasp.

[Artwork by lamthetwickster!](https://lamthetwickster.tumblr.com/commissions)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in other news... Bowman and Dean, ya'll!
> 
>  **Next:** February 25 th 2018 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	44. The Fairy of the Park

Jacob barely caught the sound of Sam's voice. He was still halfway up the stairs, making his way down with care. Each step was a little under half his height, which meant walking down them normally was out of the question. He kept to the side, his grip secure on the railings of the bannister to keep from tumbling all the way down the curved staircase.   
  
If anything, he looked even more like a little kid, trailing after an adult.  
  
The grand entryway spread out beneath him as he rounded the curve in the stairs. Far across from the window Sam was frowning at, Jacob could barely see the front door of the house. It was actually the first doorway he’d seen in the house with an actual door in it, from what he could tell. One across from the stairs led to another room, but it was too dim for him to see much beyond the legs of a chair- dining room perhaps?  
  
"And there's nothing outside?" he asked as he made his way further down the steps. Sam's look already answered the question for him, and Jacob pursed his lips. They didn't even have any idea where to  _begin_  their search.  
  
He reached the bottom of the stairs moments later, and set out to the middle of the broad entryway floor. A long, thick rug covered the wooden floor, a simple floral pattern visible along the border. It was a bit of a trek, but Jacob reached the middle of it.  
  
Looking straight up, Jacob saw a chandelier hanging high above him and frowned at it. There were specks of white barely visible in the dark, what he assumed were candles. The structure itself was at least as wide as Sam, and hung with strands of large, clear beads. It was the clumsiest looking chandelier Jacob had ever seen.  
  
While Sam investigated the back of the long entry hall, Jacob continued to wander towards the front. End tables and chairs that looked like they were meant more for decoration than comfort were interspersed along the walls. Jacob frowned at the designs on all of the upholstery. It was so clumsy and shaky compared to how nice the furniture was supposed to be. He’d never known a rich family to be  _this cheap_  about the stuff they bought.  
  
He approached the front door, ignoring the doorways on either side of him. The best way to find out where they were, he reasoned, would be to look outside. Jacob thought he'd just take a quick look, at the very least, and then regroup with Sam. He reached up to grab the doorknob.  
  
And couldn't reach.  
  
"Are you fucking  _kidding me?!_  " he muttered to himself, standing on his tiptoes as he stretched his arm over his head. His fingertips barely brushed the bottom of the doorknob.   
  
Jacob, the size of a toddler, was too small to reach it.  
  
"Fuck my life."  
  
At the opposite side of the entry hall, Sam edged to the side, away from the unnervingly blank window to peer into the kitchen. Chairs close to the design of his own desk chair surrounded a thick, sturdy-looking table, with silverware and china strewn over the surface. As he came up alongside one of the chairs, the sinking feeling in his heart solidified.  
  
Right past the table was a kitchen.  
  
In the kitchen, staring blankly back at him with a wide, chilling smile that felt like a mockery of the stranger’s smirk, was a fucking  _doll._  
  
They weren’t in a house, searching for a way outside.   
  
“Fuck...” Sam said as the realization crashed over him.  
  
They were in a fucking  _dollhouse_.  
  
Sam wasn’t normal sized, he was still four inches tall. Jacob was still an inch and a half tall. Their sizes hadn’t changed, they were just in a house full of toys made to be played with by  _children_.  
  
Sam had nothing personal against kids. He’d even met one or two that were kind and agreeable and hadn’t grabbed at him, but putting those few kids against the rest; who could grab him and treat him as nothing more than a toy with him completely, totally, helpless…  
  
They had to get out of there.  _Now._  
  
Sam tore out of the kitchen. “Time to go!” he snapped.  
  
Spotting Jacob next to the main entrance, he darted forward. In seconds, Jacob was unceremoniously hauled in the air, dropped in the satchel, and then Sam was yanking open the door, easily grasping the handle that had been out of Jacob's reach. He ran flat-out into the unknown, open space around them.

[Artwork by mogadeer!](http://mogadeer.tumblr.com/)  
  
Needless to say, Jacob wasn't prepared for Sam's actions. He squirmed around in Sam's bag, his bid to right himself hindered as the leather container rhythmically bumped Sam's side. Jacob kicked his legs and managed to free an arm so he could pull himself up and get his head out of the confines of the satchel. The sight that greeted him, though jostled heavily, made him wish he had just stayed stuck.  
  
The room, enormous beyond belief, stretched far beyond his sight. It was dimly lit only from light from the front windows of the little shop. Shelves packed the space, cliffsides that could put the Grand Canyon to shame. Jacob squirmed so he was securely tucked in the satchel while Sam darted past the front of the extravagant dollhouse they'd just vacated. He clutched the sides, a frown on his face.  
  
How in the  _hell_  were they supposed to get out of this one?  
  
The front counter had a number of display cases around it. Their glass fronts shone with glare from outside, showing it to be past sunrise already. The old-timey toy store would be opening any minute, admitting countless kids to browse the shelves.  
  
And Jacob and Sam? They were doll-sized, as was so painfully pointed out to them by their placement in the stupid dollhouse. It was beyond expectation for anyone to believe they were people anywhere else. Here, they were even less likely to be recognized as living, breathing people that shouldn't be handled roughly. Jacob knew that well enough from his brush with the kids in the library.  
  
From the way Sam was running, he knew it too.  
  
"S-Sam," Jacob began, his voice rattled by the sprinting gait. "Where will we go?" As far as Jacob could tell, their best bet was getting to a phone to call Dean. The only phone he could glimpse was up on the wall behind the counter. They wouldn't be able to reach that, even if there wasn't the risk of someone seeing them out in the open.  
  
“Into the walls, out of sight, anywhere but  _here!_  ” Sam managed to reply, his strides fast as they’d ever been. He’d never run this flat-out before, and he needed to be  _faster_. Needed to get out, get  _away_. His instinctive, embedded fear of children rose up inside of his chest, threatening to freeze him in place.  
  
They could bother with finding a way to reach Dean  _after_  they were safely away from grabbing, clutching hands… hands that could snap an arm without hesitation, or toss either of them to the ground in a careless tantrum. Hitting the ground like that would leave either of them a broken, shattered husk even if they survived the impact.  
  
Then there was the possibility of being stepped on… the angry screams of a child that didn’t like the toy they received rang in Sam’s ears, a memory from long ago when he had been learning the ropes of finding supplies with Walt. A sneaker stomping angrily on an action figure as the arms and legs had popped off sprang into Sam’s mind, as vivid as the day he’d seen it happen.  
  
He skidded to a halt, brow furrowed as he concentrated on the wall behind the boxed action figures on the floor.  _C’mon, c’mon… there’s always a way. There_ has _to be a way._  
  
His chances of finding a way into the walls were cut down by the fact that anyone his size would avoid this place the same way they’d avoid a houseful of snakes. It was too easy to be spotted by young, keen eyes that were always darting around in curiosity and excitement. A cool new  _toy_  like Sam, Jacob, or anyone else their size would be coveted and fought over. His hand went to his knife by instinct, pulling it out of his jacket to prepare himself for the worst.  
  
Giving up on that shelf, Sam dashed off again, not bothering to warn Jacob. They needed a way out  _now_ , and that was all that mattered. His tongue stuck out of his mouth in concentration as he stared at the next wall, eyes scanning it for any way in, any way  _out_  of this nightmare.  
  
Just as he began to run for the third time, his neck burst into flame as the sense of danger clawed its way up his spine like a rabid animal.  
  
Sam froze, knife held at the ready and pulse pounding in his ears.  
  


* * *

  
Bowman’s cramped, overwarm prison rose rapidly through the air, and then whipped around. He gritted his teeth as a rhythmic bouncing began. The girl's excited breaths echoed around him. She was running away with him and he couldn't even try to pry himself out of her grasp, no matter how much he squirmed and kicked at her fingers.  
  
He would never give up. Even as the girl came to a stop several minutes later, out of breath and excited, Bowman struggled.   
  
"Guys! Guys, I caught a fairy!" she chirped. Bowman rolled his eyes, but correcting her wouldn't do any good. He remembered Sam showing off images on the computer of what humans called ‘fairies.’  
  
Nothing like the real thing. To his great annoyance, he realized there would be no convincing the child that captured him. He just couldn’t win today.  
  
A chorus of "No way!" and "Lemme see!" coupled with Bowman's prison jostling around him and he quaked with fear. He was captured by a human child. It wasn't a predator, but that didn't make things better. His back already screamed at him for relief from the way she had him folded up in her hands, and it wouldn't take much for her to snap one of his bones.  
  
After successfully calming her friends, the girl opened her hands and light hit Bowman's face once more. She quickly adjusted her grip around her thrashing captive so that both hands were wrapped around him, securing him from the waist down.  
  
At least his arms and wings were free.  
  
A circle of five or six giant faces surrounded him. Bowman looked around fearfully before pushing as mightily as he could on the girl's hands. His wings fluttered until one of the other kids reached out to pinch one in his fingers. Bowman froze while the boy ran a thumb over the sensitive membrane of his wing. When it was released, Bowman resumed his struggles. Panic wasn't allowing him to even speak or try to reason with them. He was surrounded by giants.   
  
Captured.   
  
Trapped.  
  
All the fears that were hidden deep down inside from the first time he’d been captured rose up inside him again. Two huge giants staring down at him, accusing eyes glued to his every flicker of movement. Only instead of seeing Jacob and Dean, two of his best friends, now he could only see faceless giants that wanted nothing more than to trap him.  
  
"Wow, it really  _is_  a fairy! Kaylee, where didja find it? Can I hold it?"   
  
"No! This one is mine, get your own fairy!" The girl possessively drew Bowman close. He fluttered his wings and blinked rapidly, trying not to let the burning in his eyes turn into tears. He couldn't afford to lose it right now; not when he was in danger of being taken away by this child. He didn’t even have a way to alert Dean of his plight. The hunter was the only person out here that had a chance of helping Bowman, but he _didn't know._    
  
All because Bowman had slacked on paying attention.  
  
"Well obviously he doesn't like you, he's trying to get away!" another child insisted.  
  
"Come on, we just wanna see it better!"  
  
More young voices clamored for dominance, and hands reached out towards Bowman, touching his wild hair, brushing his wings, pulling his arms to look at his comparatively small hands. Bowman couldn't do anything to stop them. The grip around him shifted again, until just two fingers and a thumb were pinched around his middle. Bowman grimaced at the pressure on his ribs while one of his legs was pinched in the other hand, stretched out so the children could look closer at his boots.  
  
"S-stop it!" he finally demanded, finding his voice among the fear and discomfort. All of them paused, eyes widening in even further awe that only made Bowman shudder more.  
  
"See, I told you he doesn't like you! Let someone else hold him!"  
  
"I don't wanna!"  
  
"I got an idea," one child interjected. They left for a moment, and when they came back, they were carrying a long stick with a hoop at one end. Bowman's eyes widened at the net fixed over the hoop. It was some kind of trap meant to scoop him right out of the air, he knew. The kid was holding it out expectantly. "Just drop him in here and we can hold the net shut. That way he doesn't have to be in someone's hand."  
  
Bowman struggled even more as his captor, Kaylee, considered it. Finally, with some reluctance, she held him out over the net. "It's still  _my_  fairy," she pointed out. And then she let go.  
  
One of the things Bowman practiced often during his flights was pulling out of freefall. It was one of his more valuable skills, especially when goofing off with other sprites his age that'd otherwise try to tackle him out of the air. Bowman could right himself after mere inches of falling and swoop away from danger.  
  
And that is exactly what he did. Whirling once and snapping his wings open, the desperate wood sprite darted past the net and swerved haphazardly around the child holding it. He felt his wing tip brush against their cheek before a number of yelps of surprise all but deafened him.  
  
There was no time. All of the kids were chasing him. Bowman, overwhelmed with panic, didn't think he even had time to bank upwards and out of reach. He felt the rush of air of that net swiping through the air just behind him, and was glad for his speed.   
  
Bowman darted back towards the trees. He had to find Dean. Dean was the only human out there that he could count on right now. The only human anywhere that would be able to keep him from recapture by these younger humans that insisted on calling him a 'fairy.'  
  
One problem.   
  
Bowman, in his fright, didn't know where he'd left the enormous human. He darted among the trees, with those children still chasing after him and hollering for him to stop. He approached an oak tree that  _might_  be hiding Dean behind it. He looked back once to see if the kids were closing on him (they weren't, thankfully).   
  
When he looked forward again, Bowman was surprised to see a massive chest in front of him from a human walking along the path, barely more than a foot away.  
  
He opened his wings wide with a gasp, attempting to stop his forward momentum. It didn't do much, and Bowman smacked into the giant at a high enough speed to completely daze himself.   
  
His wings and limbs went numb, and Bowman started to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Run, Sammy run!
> 
> While Sam panics about where they are, Bowman is the magical fairy found in the park...
> 
> Also, lots of cursing.
> 
>  **Next:** March 4 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	45. Open for Business

Jacob winced as the bag jostled out in front of Sam before slamming back into him from the sudden freeze. He might have pushed at the journal that tilted and dug into his side, but Jacob saw Sam's face and his eyes widened at the expression above him. Sam was frozen in terror, body gone completely still in an instant. Jacob  _knew_ what that meant.  
  
Sam felt someone's eyes on him.  
  
The sound of a key scraping in a distant lock echoed through the room, pounding in their ears. The front door of the store opened up, the glass shining and casting a glare onto the tile floor before a light switch flipped casually on. Light flooded over the room, bathing everything in a warm, inviting yellow from the old hanging lights so far above.  
  
Footsteps, thunderous, echoing footsteps. They grew louder and louder and Jacob felt a shiver of intimidation go up his spine. He could feel the footfalls through  _Sam_ once the titan was close enough. He had to hope that maybe their notice had fleetingly passed over Sam and he was merely waiting for them to face another direction so he could duck behind something.  
  
A shadow crept over them, stealing away the warm light.  
  


* * *

  
Melody stooped to pick up what looked like an action figure from in front of the small section of  _Pokemon_  toys. She wrapped a hand around it casually, only noting that it was clearly out of place with the bright and colorful Pikachus and Char-whatevers. She hadn't even bothered to put her purse on the counter yet; she'd spotted it all the way from the front of the store with just a passing glance.  _Probably Lloyd shirking cleanup for the closing shift again._  
  
She carried it at her side to the front counter, her hand swinging slightly with each step. She tossed her purse on the cluttered shelf below the register with a casual flick of the wrist, and the bag gave a muffled clatter as her belongings banged against each other. Then, pushing a handful of her beaded braids behind her ear, Melody lifted the action figure up to take a look at it.  
  
Her nose immediately wrinkled and her brow pinched in irritation. "God dammit, Lloyd," she muttered. "How many times I gotta tell him to quit letting people play with the expensive shit?"  
  
This model was clearly more than just an action figure. It was a custom made piece, without a doubt. She couldn't even  _see_  the joints. She gently tilted the little man's head with a finger and thumb, careful not to strain the delicate work. She brushed along the hem of the tiny jacket and smirked at the itty bitty boots. The little toy even had a very real-looking knife clutched in its hand. Melody nudged at the arm so that it held the knife out a little farther, never noticing a tiny shudder that ran along that arm.  
  
She turned the action figure over to look for its tag, but something else caught her attention. The little messenger bag hanging over its shoulder ... "Oh, for fu-  _really,_ Lloyd?" There was a mini stuffed in the bag, one of those D&D type toys barely over an inch tall. Melody fished that one out carefully with her free hand, holding it pinched between a finger and a thumb. This one was clearly custom, too. Toymakers did amazing work these days. All the more reason to  _not_  just let any customer go around playing with the damn things.  
  
With a terse sigh, Melody set the toys down on the counter and dragged one of the old wooden drawers open with a loud scraping noise and a screech of the rusting tracks. She retrieved two small white tags with thin white threads looped through them from the clutter. Then she reached over the two misplaced toys and snatched a pen from the cup by the register. Eyeing them up as they lay there on the counter, Melody wrote out new prices in very neat lettering on the tag. That bigger one was definitely worth at least sixty for the craftsmanship. The little one would most likely go for thirty; custom work mattered. She marked them seventy five and forty. They could always have a sale.  
  
Next, with bored movements, Melody dragged the larger action figure closer by a leg, looping the thread around it and tying the tag around the bitty toy's ankle. She opted to tie the little one's tag around its waist, since the legs were so tiny she worried she could damage the joints. That taken care of, she carried the two toys over to one of the main display cases, where similar models were arranged in rows by size. She unlocked the case and swung the glass front open.  
  
The first toy was placed on the middle of the three shelves, towards the front with other action figures around its size. The mini was set on the top shelf, nudged into place with one fingertip. Melody slightly adjusted the bigger one's pose, making him look as badass as the maker no doubt intended, before shutting the two of them safely in the case, satisfied with the loud click of the lock clasping shut.  
  


* * *

  
Sam couldn't stop shivering.  
  
His leg throbbed from where the woman had grabbed it, bruises already forming on his calf. He could feeling it swelling up under his worn, homemade jeans. The tight cord around his ankle wasn't helping. The store clerk had tied it tight enough to almost cut off circulation to his foot.  
  
But why would she care? They were clearly just  _toys_.  
  
Toys, to be stared at by massive kids with hands bigger than he was. Kids that could crush him even if they didn't mean it, not to mention the bratty tantrum throwing kids that could toss him like a ragdoll if they didn't get what they wanted from their parents. Children were a lot more terrifying at this size, never recognizing one of the smaller folk as 'human' because of it.   
  
Growing up, Walt had warned him away from any room with children in it. They were perceptive and  _fast_ , hard to run from with legs barely two inches long. Harder to run from for someone Jacob’s size. And Sam was even  _taller_  than the others his size.  
  
Jacob was over his head, out of sight on the highest of the clear glass shelves. So long as the woman was near, Sam couldn't risk glancing upwards to check on his friend. He had to assume that as long as Jacob was standing, he wasn't hurt. If Jacob fell or toppled over, Sam would be able to hear it against the ceiling.  
  
He was surrounded by action figures, all around the same size as him. Some were better quality than others. Clearly she thought he was one of the better ones, hence the high price on his ankle. His arms were positioned in an attack stance, with his feet spread for balance in his pose. He shuddered at the sight of that price tag around his ankle.  
  
That price meant that people could  _buy him_.  
  
He was an object, a thing. As long as they were trapped on the shelves of a toy store, there was no escaping that fate. A fate Dean had sworn to keep him from.  
  
Even Dean wouldn't find him here.  
  
The strange man that they'd encountered in a dream stuck out to Sam. His words...  _What's the point of a game that can't be won? Remember, this is a_ game.  
  
There was a way out. There  _had_  to be.  
  
They couldn't risk moving. If anyone saw either of them move, it would be all over. Trapped in a cage to never get out... or stuck in a pose with other action figures.   
  
In a fucking  _toy store_.  
  
 _How the_ hell _do we get out of this one?_  
  
Sam's plan of getting into the walls would still be viable  _if_  they could find a way out of the display case. Jacob could stow away in his bag again, and Sam could climb down to the bottom shelf in search of a way out. The problem was, they needed that woman to leave the room, and so far she wasn't going anywhere. The constant burn on the back of his neck attested to that. Her eyes would occasionally glance up from where she was preparing the register, eyeing up the 'action figure' that she'd found on the floor. He could swear he saw annoyance in her look, but he had to be imagining that; why would anyone be annoyed at an  _action figure?_  
  
Eventually, she walked away from the counter. Sam internally cheered as the prickling on his neck slowly came to a stop, her entire body facing away from them. He risked a glance upwards, towards where Jacob had been place. His neck ached at the movement, once again reminding him of the casual way she'd almost injured him while examining him. "Jacob, you alright up there?" he hissed in the quietest whisper he could manage.  
  
Then he realized where she was going. His head snapped back to where she'd 'positioned' it, his hand tightening around the knife he had extended in a 'pose.' His arms started to tremble more, but not because of the way they were outstretched.  
  
The door of the store was unlocked. The sign outside lit up bright red, spelling out the most terrifying phrase of his life.  
  
 **OPEN FOR BUSINESS**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Melody, who will be running the toy store this morning.
> 
> **Next:** March 7 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	46. Sammy, Sammy, He's a Doll

Jacob swallowed his answer as Sam’s words fell flat. A faint buzzing noise that he could hear all the way at the back of the store emitted from the sign as it flickered on. It was an ominous sound, like the siren calling in any giant that happened by. Jacob shivered, understanding with much greater empathy why Sam hated being out in the open. They were literally on display for anyone to come and gawk at, and in Jacob's case their  _eyes_  were the size of him.  
  
While the woman went around the store tidying up and making sure the toys on the shelves were arranged neatly, Jacob took a chance to look straight down. His eyes found Sam easily; it was obvious to Jacob that Sam was no toy, but the woman had no reason to see anything else. The clunky plastic and pewter things spaced around Sam were no different to her.  
  
Jacob could see the tension in Sam's shoulders, barely shaking the arm held out in front of him. He could see the shallow breaths that Sam tried to hide. And he could see the set of his feet, solidly planted.  
  
On glass.  
  
Jacob's face paled when the vertiginous drop became clear to him, right through the glass shelving all the way to the floor. The generic patterned tile far below had the surface area of a good-sized house. Jacob would be unrecognizable if he fell that far. Even with the many action figures (most of them bigger than him) in the way, Jacob thought the drop to the floor yawned beneath him, seeming longer and longer the more he stared down.  
  
The clerk rearranging a display at the front of the store reminded him to face forward again and stand exactly as she'd left him or she'd realize he was more than just a tiny toy. Jacob hated to think of what might happen if she found out he was alive; a toy come to life, right in her own store... she'd probably sell him for a  _lot_  more than forty bucks. He shuddered. His life was worth forty dollars.  
  
"I'm fine," Jacob managed to hiss, taking a chance when the woman was as far across the main room as possible, though  _Fine_  might be a generous assessment. Jacob was battered even before he was yanked out of Sam's bag in a finger and thumb much bigger than him. His sore ribs were joined by sore arms and legs when she'd so abruptly looked him over, trying to pose him. And that didn't even consider the thick rope tied around his waist. He was glad it wasn't constricting his leg, but his bruised sides begged for mercy.  
  
No matter which direction he turned his furtive glances, they were trapped. Sam was stuck down there, a very detailed "custom" action figure among superheroes and soldiers and monsters. Jacob, up on the top shelf, found himself standing among delicately-molded pewter statues of wizards and knights and rogues ... he was mistaken for one of those D&D figures.   
  
Jacob tried to imagine being stuck on a wide table while dice the size of trash cans clattered around. Nothing more than a set piece in someone else's game of make-believe while he waited in horror for one clumsy move to cost him dearly.  
  
They couldn't get out. There was no way to contact Dean now, because there was no way to open that gigantic glass front of the case. They'd be stuck in there until someone bought them, and carried them home, and never once looked closely enough to notice Jacob's breathing or Sam's quivering. They'd never notice the little cuts in Jacob's hoodie or the fact that Sam's grip was tight on his knife out of fear, not because he was crafted that way.  
  
They were insignificant. Items to be bought and sold, posed and displayed. And if they finally collapsed from mishandling or exhaustion or starvation, they'd be discarded as broken. Worth no more than the meager space they occupied.  
  
Jacob tensed as an ominous ringing clamored through the store. The bell at the front was bigger than Jacob and though it was meant to be a cheery sound, it filled him with nothing but dread. A mother and two children entered the store. One of them darted straight back to the dollhouse he and Sam had woken up in, and the other wandered between the shelves. The business day had officially begun with the first customers.  
  
Time crawled after the first children entered the store.   
  
At first, the tingling on Sam's neck was sporadic. He only got a glance or two from the mother, and on occasion the clerk would stare around at the displays as well, keeping her eyes on all the toys in the building and probably watching out for any possible theft that could occur.  
  
Each time her eyes passed over his spot, the pricking returned. And, as the door swung open, admitting the next family in, it burst into a fire. One little boy's eyes were glued to the display case immediately, and he ran right over. Sam forced himself to stop trembling, though his instincts were quailing under the oversized, too-close scrutiny.  
  
The boy's voice rang out. " _Mooooomm,_  we should get one of these!" The eyes were covetous as they stared at the knife that had been lovingly handcrafted by Dean, outstretched in Sam's shaky, clammy hand. The child's hand landed on the glass close by, grubby fingerprints smudging the clear surface.

[Artwork by @mogadeer](https://mogadeer.deviantart.com/art/com-Weird-Display-595469570)  
  
Sam couldn't hide a flinch at the sound, or the size of the hand that stretched higher than his head, but the child was already staring beseechingly up at his mom, large eyes trying to get her to go along with his plan. Her shadow fell over Sam as she leaned in, piercing blue eyes spotting the price tag that was tied to his leg.  
  
Sam waited with bated breath for her to pronounce his fate, the warning feeling against his neck almost a physical sensation. It got worse with every set that landed on him, from the clerk, to the child, to his mother, to the few other people that were browsing around. He'd  _never_  felt like this before. It was barely noticeable normally, when he was around Dean or Bobby or Jacob. Just enough to let him know that he wasn't alone in the room or the car.   
  
With Dean, it was even reassuring, letting him know his brother was looking out for him like he always would.  
  
Here, surrounded by giant unknowns that could control his fate, it was far different.  _Danger_  hung around the feeling to the point that he thought it would make his jacket burst into flames. Sam’s shoulders were rigid and he resisted the urge to shudder, to duck behind something and spare himself more of the burning.  
  
The mother pursed her lips and glanced down at her son. "Dear, you can't afford that today. You can't even pay for half of that toy, like we agreed." She tugged his hand, pulling him away.  
  
Sam's tension only slightly lessened as she walked away. The child continued begging, tugging her arm, big liquid eyes staring longingly back at Sam.  
  
_Good thing he didn't want Jacob,_  Sam thought shakily to himself. During the second's reprieve he received as they left, he let out a shuddering breath. Under close scrutiny like that, a human might notice that he was actually breathing.   
  
_If he wanted Jacob, there's almost nothing I could do..._  
  
The only plan he could come up with would be to leap out of the display case when Jacob got grabbed, get a handhold on the person taking him, and try to get to Jacob and get them both out of there. It was such a ridiculous plan, even Sam couldn't believe he'd thought of it.   
  
_Can't risk them discovering people our size can be alive..._  He knew that for a fact.  _Just because we're in trouble doesn't give us the right to put them in danger._  
  
More people entered the shop, and the burn on Sam's back became a constant,  _painful_  reminder of their helplessness.  
  
As the minutes dragged by, scraping against their nerves like sandpaper, the two hidden in plain sight in the display case managed to escape notice. Jacob wasn't sure how they avoided all but the passing attention of people who quickly shied away from the prices tied to them. Every time a kid came up, looking over them with curious eyes, Jacob flinched. He knew Sam was probably shaking, even if he didn’t dare look down at him.  
  
Sam, despite still looking like a toy, was attracting plenty of attention. He was front and center in the middle shelf. He was a realistic model with an action pose and a very real-looking knife. A handful of little kids banged their fingers on the glass, leaving fingerprints the size of Jacob's head to point Sam out to their parents. Every cloudy mark that appeared was accompanied by an echo of sound, the ominous reminder of how trapped they were.  
  
How little they could do if one of those parents didn't balk at the price tag on Sam's leg.  
  
Countless  _That's too expensive_ ’s and  _How about this cheaper one instead?_ ’s later, Jacob's nerves were frayed. All it took was one kid to walk in with birthday money from grandma or weeks and weeks of saved allowance. Then the lives of the toy-sized people trapped in the case depended only on the whims of a child, and not on the thriftiness of a parent.  
  
Jacob got a few critical glances, too. Older kids with boxes of  _Warhammer_  sets tucked under their arms cast their gazes over the top shelf of the display case. Jacob more than once found himself staring right into a pair of eyes as big as him. He could see his own faint reflection in the glass pane in front of him and his fear was evident.  
  
One voice rattled the glass all around. "Hey, lady, can I get one of the figures out of this case?"  
  
Jacob clenched his jaw as the clerk came over with the keys. "Which one?"  
  
_Which one which one_  echoed in his head in time with his frantic heartbeat. The young teen turned back towards the figures even as the lock noisily came undone. A blast of fresh air struck Jacob in the face, cooling the sweat forming on his brow.  
  
Jacob barely resisted the sigh of relief at the response. "That angel in the back." The clerk's arm reached over his head, a temporary sky of dark skin with a tattoo of a treble clef emblazoned over it.  
  
"Here we go," the clerk muttered, pulling a pewter angel with wings spread wide and a bow drawn taut out of the case. It was just a bit shorter than Jacob. "Any other ones?"  
  
"Nah. That custom one looks cool but it's too much. Doesn't even have a weapon."  
  
The clerk laughed as she slammed the case shut again. Jacob's ears rang but he still heard the conversation continue as the titans stomped over to the counter. "Could glue the blade from that bigger one to it. Be like his own little buster blade."  
  
Jacob logically knew they had no reason to know how unsettling their words were, but the thought of having something  _glued_  to him was absolutely chilling. He'd lose skin over that, if he ever managed to escape.   
  
All for a lame  _Final Fantasy_  reference.  
  
He thought their troubles might abate for a while. When that guy and his friends left, the store's customers were reduced to two, and both were browsing the dollhouse furniture. Then that stupid bell jingled again in Jacob's sore ears. He glanced furtively to see who came in.  
  
And his stomach almost dropped out.  
  
It was the boy from the library. The shifty-eyed, scowly kid who nearly dropped Jacob a relative 200 feet to his death in a dark backpack. Who nearly got Sam in his clutches.  
  
The boy's sneakers banged on the floor, echoing loudly in Jacob's ears as he approached the case with a casual saunter. If there was someone to fear, it was this boy. The rest of the store suddenly didn't matter, because those dark eyes were skating over the merchandise waiting behind the smudged glass.  
  
Jacob saw recognition when they locked on him. And then his heart leapt up to his throat when they drifted downwards and landed on Sam. Jacob was terrified on Sam's behalf; he'd been handled by that boy before. He knew the boy was not kind, and Sam was  _already_  afraid of kids. As the kid slowly leaned close, eyes narrowed and nose nearly touching the glass, there was an almost smug glint in those eyes.  
  
He'd found the coolest toy he'd ever seen, after all.  
  
"Seventy five, oh fuck  _that,_ " the kid whispered, a momentary look of disgust coming over his face. His hand surreptitiously tried the handle of the case front, rattling it quietly against the lock. Jacob shuddered; if that case weren't locked, that hand could sneak its way inside and snatch Sam away.   
  
There would be no stopping him.  
  
For once, being locked up was a good thing as it thwarted the boy's attempts to steal. To  _kidnap_  them.   
  
So far.   
  
The kid straightened and looked over his shoulder. "Hey, miss, can I look at some of these figures?"  
  
The clerk, Jacob noticed with no small relief, didn't even go for the keys. She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at the boy. "You think I'm stupid, kid? I know you tried to run with one of them last time you were here. Don't make me put your face on the 'call police immediately' bulletin board. I don't care how young you are. No shenanigans in my store, got it?"  
  
Her no-nonsense stand might be the only thing saving Jacob and Sam from being roughly pocketed and stolen. Carried off to be callously tossed aside or broken or mistreated at the hands of a child.  
  
The boy scowled at her and shrugged his hands into his pockets. He glared back at the case, and at Sam. There was a locked pane of glass protecting the small hunter from the greed in those eyes. Jacob thought it might as well be tissue paper.  
  
"Fine, bitch," the boy muttered, before coiling a fist and pounding it on the glass front and stalking to a different section of the store. The clerk kept her glare on him the entire time.  
  
Jacob finally released his held breath. Even he felt the tangible cloud of danger that hung overhead when that kid was looking at them. Nothing like poor Sam's ability, but he felt it all the same. The sense of a complete and utter lack of control breathing down his neck.  
  
When the bell rang again, Jacob wouldn't have believed that the next customer could scare him as much as the library boy, but when he glanced over and saw the blond-haired, blue-eyed teen being led in by a young cousin, glancing around with a bored countenance, Jacob's breath froze.  
  
"Holy shit it's Bobby," he breathed out, glad no one was around the case. One of Jacob's closest friends from school, the boy whose family owned the land Bowman's forest stood upon, was in town. His younger relative had probably dragged him all over already, judging by the slouch in his shoulders and the drag in his steps.  
  
Bobby had no idea about anything supernatural like Jacob did. He didn't even know that his own family's land was home to an entire village of tiny four inch winged people. As the guy browsed the shelves with an unfocused eye, Jacob wondered if he was the out they needed.  
  
Jacob's eyes were wide by the time those blue eyes swept over the case. Bobby did a double take. He leaned closer, frowning in concentration, right at  _Jacob._  He blinked several times, tilting his head as he unknowingly looked over his best friend.  
  
_Should I try to get his attention? Does he know it's me? What will he do if he buys us?_  
  
The last question gave Jacob pause. Bobby was his friend, but he'd never known the guy to be overly sensitive. If he found a tiny lookalike of his friend, there was no knowing what he'd do. He would probably be a complete shithead about it before ever agreeing to anything. That was a big risk for someone an inch and a half tall and at the guy's mercy.  
  
"Jacob," the word mumbled out of Bobby's mouth and Jacob nearly fainted right there. A smirk slowly overtook the enormous face filling his vision. "Looks like Jacob, what the fuck."  
  
He didn't recognize him. Bobby thought he was still looking at a toy. A custom figure that happened to look  _just_  like his friend. Jacob clenched his jaw. Bobby was too much of a risk. He might be able to afford Sam and Jacob, but the gamble in what he'd do with them was too great.  
  
Bobby fished in his pocket and retrieved a phone as tall as Sam. Jacob watched with a thudding heart as Bobby grinned at him with the kind of amusement reserved for a ridiculous find at a sale. Which, Jacob supposed, he was.  
  
The empty black eye of the phone's camera stared at him, and a fake shutter sound clicked out of the speakers, snapping a photo of Jacob the tiny figure. A picture. Bobby just took a picture of him. As the teen looked down to thumb out a message, Jacob could just imagine it.  
  
_Hey, dude, check out what I found in the toystore, lol!_  The text, sent to Jacob's still-giant phone, an innocuous little message that he wouldn't receive. Bobby would forget about it soon after, and with no reply from Jacob it'd be pushed out of his mind.  
  
As he walked away, Jacob sighed, not sure whether he'd missed their one chance at escaping. The uncertainty nagged at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets hear it: Should Jacob have tried to flag down Bobby (Loran, not Singer. Bobby Singer is not around), or did he do the right thing just letting him go?
> 
>  **Next:** March 11 th 2018 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	47. Overloaded

Dean was as surprised as anyone when he rounded the corner.  
  
He'd been methodically combing through the park, examining any families he could find. With his appearance and angry disposition, he'd received more than one scathing glare from a mother out with her children. If he'd stopped to think about it, he wouldn't be able to blame them. Some strange guy wandering around, staring at children? Yeah, totally  _not_  suspicious.  
  
Hopefully Bowman would have more luck. Dean couldn't risk getting too close to the families or the parents might call the cops on him.  
  
_Sammy..._  
  
Worry for his brother, his mind slowly growing frantic as he  _didn't find_  Sam, increased. Every minute they wasted combing the idyllic park could be the minute one of their friends got hurt. Or worse. They needed to find them.  
  
More than once, he examined the ground around an abandoned picnic area, lightly pushing aside any trash to see if Jacob was huddled underneath. It would be so easy for him to get accidentally stepped on out in an environment like this… Hopefully he and Sam were together, wherever they were. Sam would watch out for him and make sure he was okay.  
  
Dean's pocket buzzed at him after at least a half hour wasted in the outdoors. He was going to just ignore it for the moment when he realized it wasn't actually his phone...   
  
It was  _Jacob's._  
  
Since Jacob had told his family he was going to be away, Dean pulled out the phone. It might be an emergency, after all. Family was family, and you don't leave them hanging.  
  
He flipped it open. There was a text message with a picture attached. He clicked to open it.  
  
_Hey, dude, check out what I found at the toystore, lol!_  
  
Dean's mouth went dry when the picture loaded.  
  
It was Jacob.  
  
Small, and surrounded by other figurines his size, the small hunter was frozen in an action pose. His face was too pixelated to make out, but Dean could imagine the fear that covered it if anyone bothered to look close enough. The kid that had sent the message, Bobby, had no idea that it was actually the person he'd sent the message to.  
  
Then realization hit, and Dean froze.  
  
If Jacob was there,  _Sam_  was there. Maybe locked up in the same case, being offered for sale. Surrounded by a hundred people gawking at him.  
  
Surrounded by  _children._  
  
For Sam, there might be no worse hell.  
  
Thinking fast, Dean replied to the message, trying to think what Jacob might say. He needed to know where that store was  _now_. Sam and Jacob's situation was worse than he'd thought.  _Sammy, Sammy, he's a doll..._  The strangely familiar voice taunted Dean's mind.  
  
_What store did you see that at, dude?_  
  
He hesitated, then clicked  **SEND**. Hopefully Bobby wouldn't notice how awkward the message sounded in Dean's head, attempting to sound like Jacob.  
  
After that was taken care of, he slipped back into the trees, ignoring the families. They didn't have Sam or Jacob after all. "Bowman!" he hissed quietly, hoping the sprite was nearby. "We gotta get out of here, I know where they are!"  
  
Five minutes of going through the trees like that, he heard a bunch of kids clamoring in the distance. Dean went around a tree just to check and make sure that they weren't in view of a certain sprite, then...  
  
Something tiny, fast, and green slammed into his chest.  
  
Dean's eyes widened. "What the..." His hand snapped out instinctively, catching the tumbling sprite before he fell too far. Bowman, in a daze, was lying on his hand. His wings twitched and his eyes were unfocused.  
  
Spotting what had been chasing the sprite, Dean's hand tightened around the shuddering form of his friend. He carefully drew the small body and wings into an encompassing fist to get him out of sight of the kids with a butterfly net. Better for Bowman to be completely surrounded by Dean’s fingers than at the mercy of  _that_.  
  
"Hey, that's  _my_  fairy!" proclaimed one of the little girls when she saw Dean standing there.  
  
He slipped his hand into his jacket, opening it to let Bowman slide down into one of the inside pockets, where no one but Dean would be able to reach him. "Sorry, kids. You're gonna have to find another fairy. This one's taken."  
  
Turning, he strode away, ignoring the upset girl and the other kids behind him.  _Time to go..._  before their parents found out Dean was the reason she was crying.  
  
With long strides so he didn't look like he was rushing or running, he reached the Impala fast. Bowman was left alone in the pocket while Dean started up the car. Jacob's phone buzzed just as he was pulling out of the parking spot. Dean dug it out to check the message from Bobby.  
  
_In town near the family land. Junky little toy store on Main. Just what every D &D nerd needs._  
  


* * *

  
In a display case surrounded by motionless action figures, Sam couldn't stop trembling.  
  
It was fast approaching noon and the store was flooded. From the kid that had wanted to steal Sam earlier that day to the smirking teen that had snapped a picture of Jacob, there hadn't been a moment's peace from the scrutiny.  
  
The prickle on his neck had turned into a continuous, numbingly painful burn. He had no way to even tell if someone new started looking at him. From the store clerk to the children to the parents, eyes had been on him since the store had opened, constant, unfriendly eyes that sized him up against the cost sticker that was tied tight to his ankle. There was no momentary relief if someone glanced away. The burn remained, reminding him that he was out in the open, nowhere to hide. Even Jacob, human as he was, might be adding to the burn if he happened to risk a glance at Sam.  
  
His ability had always been a gift. A way to know if he was being watched, if there was anyone out there after him. Even with Dean around all the time he didn't mind, and after a year together, the sensation of Dean or Jacob looking at him had become less painful, more of a reassurance. It was as though his knack knew that they weren’t a threat. But this... this was a curse. An unending pain of 'innocent looks.'  
  
Adding to that pain and compounding it was the agony of  _not moving_. Since almost ten in the morning they'd both been forced to hold the poses that the clerk had set them in. Sam had to risk subtle shifts from time to time, relieving the pain in his joints and back. His arms were stretched out in an attack pose, and that made it even worse. He had to hold his knife steady without shaking and giving away the fact that he was  _alive_. The only luck there was the fact that his arms were honed from years of climbing, helping him to support the weight of his knife for so long.  
  
Yet another part of what held him motionless with fear was a conversation happening only a few feet away.  
  
"Five... ten... fifteen..." A little girl, her hair done up in pigtails with pretty pink ribbons to match her dress was standing to the side of the case, carefully smoothing out crumpled dollar bills as she counted them out slowly. She couldn't have been older than six or seven, and she had a "Happy Birthday!" balloon tied to one chubby arm.  
  
She was counting up her money to  _buy Sam_.  
  
The mother leaned in to peer at the figurines. Her eyes briefly grazed over Jacob up top but were unerringly drawn to Sam. "Sweetie, why don't we look at some  _My Little Ponies_  or  _Barbie?_  You can afford more of them, plus this little toy has a knife. He doesn't even look happy."  
  
"No!" the girl snipped out, on the verge of a birthday meltdown. Even the thought of that set Sam trembling all over again, remembering what a temper tantrum could mean. "I want him to be my prince! The ponies don't even have a  _prince,_  mummy! We need to take him home."   
  
Stubbornly, she started counting her money all over again, having lost count while her mother talked.  
  
For Sam, watching those bills shift through chubby, uncoordinated fingers was like watching his life slip away, completely out of his control.  
  
The grains of sand in his hourglass were about to run out, and there was no hope in sight.  
  
No way to reach Dean or Bowman. No escape from the glass case. No way to know what would happen to Jacob after he was taken. Dean would be going out of his mind searching for them, but they'd both be gone forever.  
  
Until he and Bowman were forced to give up.  
  
Sam shuddered again when the little girl's eyes landed on him once more, his neck aflame. "He'll be the cutest prince we could ever have, mummy, and he can slay the big mean dragon for them!"  
  
The mom let out a rattling sigh, giving up on talking her daughter out of one of the more expensive figurines in there. "We're at least throwing that knife away. It looks sharp and you might get hurt."  
  
None of them noticed the hitch in Sam's shoulders at the mention of his knife, the one reminder of being human, the gift made for him by his brother, being tossed out like it meant nothing. They would take away his past at the same time as they took away his future.  
  
When the girl opened her mouth to argue, the mother's eyebrows went up. "One more word about that and you don't get  _any_  toys today."  
  
To Sam's dismay, the girl stopped arguing and went back to her money. She started counting it all over again, slow and deliberate, lengthening Sam's last moments in the case with her careful counting.

[Artwork by mogadeer!](https://mogadeer.deviantart.com/art/com-Elle-for-Nightmares06-557150807)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Elle, on her search for a prince for her ponies.
> 
> (anyone that voted "Don't get Bobby's attention" is 100% right)
> 
>  **Next:** March 14 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	48. Purchased

Bowman, shaking from the near disastrous encounter, curled up in Dean’s pocket. He wrapped his wings all around himself for comfort and buried his face in his arms. In his little cocoon of fright, he tried to even out his breathing while the feeling returned to his arms and legs. He didn't even care that he was stuffed in an inside pocket he wouldn't be able to get out of on his own; he was hidden here. He was safe.  
  
It was no wonder Sam was afraid of children. Bowman had feared every second that his bones would snap as those children examined him. Prodding at him, forcing his limbs through poses they thought were natural,  _petting_  him... all while Bowman's struggles were ignored. They would have what they wanted with or without his consent.  
  
Bowman was tucked extra close to Dean's heart. He could actually feel the faintest pulse behind him, and heard the low, plodding noise echoing in the strong chest behind him. Its rhythm and the familiar growls of the Impala helped Bowman chip away at the panic and even out his own breathing and heartbeat. The shivers lingered, but his mind was clearing.  
  
He looked up to the edge of the pocket, squinting to see it in the blocked off light. "Dean? Where are we going? I didn't see them yet!"  
  
Dean tucked away the phone and put the car in reverse. He could still feel Bowman shuddering in the pocket from time to time. "We were never  _going_  to find them here," he said listlessly. "They're not in the park. I got a message on Jacob's phone from one of his friends. There's a toy store in town, one that sells model figurines about Jacob's size. He's there. His friend thought it was a look-alike, but we know better."  
  
He rubbed his face as he pulled out into traffic. "Hopefully Sam's there with him somewhere... but there was a price tag around Jacob's waist. That means any kid that has enough money can..." His voice choked up for a second, imagining Sam's reaction to this. " _Buy_  them. And no one else would even care."  
  
Dean knew the town well enough to head straight for Main Street. Practiced movements with the wheel directed the Impala while he was going over events and plans in his head. "You need to stay out of sight and out of reach. I hope you don't mind that pocket. There's gonna be more kids here, and all in one place." He put a hand over where Bowman was, cupping his hand around the small sprite reassuringly. "None of them will get close to you again, I promise."  
  
Bowman almost flinched when he felt a hand compressing even more over his already-cramped pocket. Then he sighed, knowing what it was and what it meant. He was glad for the reassurance, though he punched lightly at the hand on principle.   
  
 _Thanks._    
  
"They better not or I'll bop you," Bowman said aloud, hoping the smirk was conveyed in his tone despite the lingering nerves. He settled down in a corner of the pocket with his wings still wrapped around himself. Hopefully they would get to Jacob before anyone else did, and hopefully Sam was nearby. If some other human claimed them and took them away, there would never be a way to find them again.  
  
With Bowman settled, the Impala shot towards the toy store.  
  


* * *

  
Sam’s attention was so focused on the little girl that he never heard the door of the toy store twinkle in the background, the bells up top heralding the arrival of yet another patron. He wouldn't have looked away if he had, with his fate being decided not three feet away. Nothing else mattered to him.  
  
His concentration on the little girl shattered when a massive shadow stepped in between the mom and her daughter and the case, cutting them from Sam's line of sight. He almost flinched at the new danger before he caught himself, afraid of the new stranger spotting that he was alive.  
  
Then froze as his eyes trailed up the massive man standing in the way.  
  
 _Dean!_  
  
With a completely harried expression on his face, the hunter stood in their way, his looming shadow blocking the sight of the birthday girl. He mouthed "Sammy" as his hand raised up, spanning the glass between the two shelves that held his friends. His hand alone could span the distance between the shelves Sam and Jacob were standing on, casting them in the first friendly shadow of the day. The long, powerful fingers drummed briefly on the glass, spelling out a reassurance since Dean had no other way to talk to them.  
  
 _I'm here._  
  
That simple phrase made Sam relax more than anything else could. Dean was there. Dean would get them out. They'd be safe, no more kids with hands plastered on the glass, smudgy fingerprints marking up the place where they all jabbed at him in fascination. Jacob wouldn't be in danger of having a knife glued to his hand, or being crushed in unfriendly fingers.  
  
Then the little girl's voice pierced through the moment and shattered the safety Dean was offering, though Sam wanted nothing more than to cling to it like a liferaft.  
  
"Mummy! I need ten more dollars and I can buy that one!" A finger jabbed against the glass, ignoring Dean as an inconsequential stranger. "Please mummy!"  
  
Dean turned to look at the mother and child, his brow furrowing as he realized what was happening. To Sam's eternal relief, the hunter practically dove towards the counter, and the clerk.   
  
She held the key to Sam and Jacob's prison.  
  


* * *

  
Dean barely took the time to compose himself as he made it to the counter. The woman at the desk was distractedly poking at the register, deep in thought. With a swallow, trying to ignore the sound of the mother behind him starting to acquiesce to her daughter's plea for the extra money  _to buy Sam,_  he gave the clerk his most charming smile. Any sense of worry or panic vanished from his demeanor.  
  
"Excuse me, miss. There's a few figurines I'd like to buy out of the display case." Dean casually tipped his head in the direction of the case. "If you could, I'm in a bit of a rush, got some work to finish up before I have the night off." With that, Dean leaned on the counter with an inviting smile.  
  
Jacob watched through the corner of his eye as Dean leaned on the counter. He almost rolled his eyes at the subtle flirt in Dean's voice, the difference in his smile. Jacob realized with an inward groan,  _Our lives depend on him being able to flirt. What the fuck._  
  
It was a good thing Dean had practice. The clerk nodded once to acknowledge Dean, and entered the last few letters of whatever she was typing. Then she looked up, barely more than a second later, and paused. Her eyebrows lifted and her lips were parted as if she was only just about to speak when she actually took in the man's appearance. If her skin wasn't so dark, Jacob had a feeling she'd be blushing bright pink.  
  
 _Holy shit,_  Jacob thought, when the clerk's eyes flickered once to the arm Dean leaned on the counter before returning to his face. She smiled back at him and somehow Jacob knew it was totally working.  
  
Dean was saving their asses by  _flirting._  
  


* * *

  
Melody noticed a couple things about the guy right away. One, he was hot in that rugged, casual way that suggested all he did was wake up in the morning to look good. Two, he was definitely from out of town. Mention of work suggested he might not be sticking around for very long, which was kind of disappointing. She wished they'd met at the local bar instead of in the middle of her shift at the fucking toy store.  
  
"Oh, of course, sir," she answered, grabbing the keys without even looking. She led the way back to the case, breezing past the girl and her mother as if they weren't even there. The key was placed in the lock before she glanced over her shoulder at Dean with a pleasant smile. "Which ones were you after today?"  
  
Dean leaned in, considering the figurines on the shelves. His arm brushed lightly against hers as he did so, a measured move to keep her mind away from other thoughts. Like how realistic the pair he was going to pick out was.  
  
“I’ve had my eye on that one,” he said, tapping the glass to point at Jacob. “The one in the hoodie. I’ve never seen one like him and I,” he gave her a broadening smile, “go for the one-of-a- _kind_.” A lazy wink sealed the deal on what he was talking about.  
  
And then he tapped the glass next to Sam. A gasp came from behind them when the little girl saw, but Dean didn’t acknowledge that she was even there. “That one too. He’ll fit in perfect. And the knife looks badass.”  
  
“Mummy!” A yell from behind almost made Dean flinch, and in his pocket he felt Bowman curl up again in surprise. “He’s taking my prince!”  
  
The mother walked up to Dean, her shoulders set in that way that just oozed how little she wanted to do this. “Excuse me, sir. My daughter, she’s been saving up all her money for this, and it’s her birthday. Is there any way, you could… take a different action figure?”  
  
A scowl crossed Dean’s face at the implication of leaving his brother behind to the tender mercies of strangers. The woman did a double take, and Dean managed to cover up the glare. “Sorry, ma’am. I’m not leaving without that action figure. She’ll just have to find something else.”   
  
He saw a storm pass over the little girl’s face and scrambled before there was a meltdown. “Tell ya what,”  _what am I doing…_  He dug his wallet out of his pocket and grabbed a fifty out of it. “Get her something a little better. I just can’t walk away from this figure though. Big… collector, y’know?” He flashed the mother his charming smile as well.  
  
The mother blinked down at the amount in her hand, then turned to the birthday girl. “Did you hear that Elle? He gave you enough to get that playset you’ve been wanting!”  
  
The girl tore away from them to grab her dream toy. Unseen by the humans around, Sam’s shoulders slumped down, relieved to see that the girl wasn’t focused on him anymore. The mother gave Dean the first real smile she’d had on her face all day. “ _Thank_  you.”  
  
“Don’t mention it.” Dean turned back around, his eyes glued to Sam. He gestured at the case to the clerk. “If you don’t mind…”  
  
Melody smiled softly, endeared by the generosity that Dean displayed so seamlessly. She saw his pointed look and turned to open up the case, feeling her face heat up more. "Of course." The glass pane swung wide open. She paused, feeling those green eyes boring into the back of her head, and sighed faintly. Pocketing the keys, Melody reached out and wrapped a careful hand around the bigger action figure, and picked up the smaller one with her thumb and first two fingers, trying to be as gentle as possible with the guy's purchases.  
  
Jacob took a chance and sucked in a deep breath when the woman lifted him out of the case. With no obstructions in the way, he could see straight to the floor. The woman's grip was the only thing keeping him from diving straight down. She nudged the case shut with her elbow and the glass rattled from the impact. Jacob flinched, glad his movements were so small she didn't notice. He kept his dangling legs as stiff as he could, but couldn't stop a shiver as he and Sam flew high above the tile floor once again.  
  
The woman set them down on the counter on their backs, not bothering to try standing them up like before. Jacob had an upside down view as Dean sauntered confidently up to the counter, and he watched the titan's face as Dean's eyes briefly flicked over them both, trying to conceal his worry from the clerk. Jacob could hardly believe Dean was actually there. The chances were so low of him finding them, and yet, here he was. Barely in time, but there.  
  
One of Dean's hands landed on the counter not far from Jacob and Sam, wrapped around his well-worn leather wallet. The surface shook around them at the motion but Jacob didn't even care. They were so close to getting out of that place, and the last person that was dangerous to them was  _Dean._  
  
The clerk typed in their prices on her register, reaching over once to grab Sam's tag to double check the amount on it. Once she ran it through, she looked across at Dean with a smile. "That'll be $123.05," she told him. Jacob almost had to roll his eyes at the way she tried to be coy, brushing several of her thin braids behind her ear.  
  
The sound of plastic sliding on plastic drew Jacob's gaze again, this time to the credit card that Dean had produced without hesitation. Thank goodness he had plenty of those to spare. The name 'Kris Warren' glinted at Jacob in metallic lettering as it was handed off, a testament to Dean's less-than-legal methods.  
  
"Well, alright," the clerk said, looking more than a little amazed that Dean had spent nearly two hundred dollars on some custom figures, including the fifty he dropped for the kid to back off. That girl's near-tantrum screeches still echoed in Jacob's ears. At least the nightmare would be over soon.  
  
He could only hope. There was a loud rustling as the clerk grabbed something from under the counter, shaking it out with practiced hands. Jacob's eyes widened when she produced two sheets of tissue paper, flattening them on the counter with strong hands that could flatten Jacob just as easily.  
  
Jacob could do nothing but watch as the clerk's hands swept towards Sam first, gathering him up and transferring him to the first sheet of paper. Jacob clenched his jaw as she  _posed_  Sam again, forcing his arms to his sides and his legs to lie straight before she folded the paper over him and wrapped him securely in the paper cushioning.  
  
Jacob was horrified to watch a person treated like an object like that. As the vaguely Sam-shaped parcel was stuffed into a plastic bag, Jacob felt sick. He sensed more than saw Dean's hand near him tighten into a fist, unable to protest his little brother's treatment without raising suspicions. The hunter was as helpless as they were to stop this.  
  
And Jacob's turn was next.   
  
He wasn't posed like Sam, but still found himself set down on top of a wide expanse of tissue paper. It was almost thicker than his clothes. He couldn't help but tilt his head ever so slightly to look for Dean again, the man who'd just had to  _buy_  him and Sam. He caught sight of that sweeping green gaze for a second and saw the desperate apology on it, powerless to help Jacob out of this one. And then, Jacob's view of Dean and the rest of the room was covered by a layer of pale green paper.  
  
He shivered openly now. Unable to do much but lie there while the clerk wrapped him in tissue paper to keep his delicate "craftsmanship" from breaking. He was turned over a few times, shutting his eyes tight from the abrupt movements. He heard the crinkling of the plastic as he was deposited in the bag next to Sam. Then the bag was swinging slightly.  
  
The clerk's voice chirped around them. The voice of a woman who had priced them, displayed them, and sold them like toys. "Thank you, sir, come back anytime! You never know when we'll have custom items like these in stock."  
  
Dean’s response rumbled through the air, but by then Sam had lost focus on the humans above. His arms and legs were shaking, but he stabbed out with his knife, slicing through the tissue paper he’d been  _wrapped in_.  
  
 _Sold in_.  
  
If Dean hadn’t appeared at the last second, right now Sam would be in the same exact place. The difference would be the bag would be dangling from a little girl’s hand. She might skip happily down the sidewalk with her prize. His life as he knew it would be over. His only hope would be escape if she let down her guard, slipping into the walls to vanish.   
  
But children never left new toys alone.

* * *

 

**A/N**

**In case you were interested, the scene with Dean putting his hand to the glass barrier was inspired by this picture:**  
  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think Melody will get the date she was hoping for
> 
> **Next:** March 18 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	49. Reprieve

Sam got himself free with as much speed as his shaking arms allowed, shredding through the last scraps of tissue paper with a desperation he normally never displayed. Gone was any attempt at a calm demeanor. His arms and legs were shaking, his neck and back on fire from his cursed ‘ability.’   
  
 _Eyes on me, never looking away…_  
  
He sucked in a desperate gasp as he sat up in free air. He forced his hand to tighten on his knife, arms like jelly. There was still more he had to do.  
  
“Jacob?” he called out quietly.  
  
Before his could look around the inside of the bag properly, it swung into motion. Sam was pitched to the side by Dean’s stride as the hunter left with them in tow. Hopefully he was heading for somewhere safe, but until then, Sam needed to  _get Jacob out._  Before the kid suffocated or had a panic attack from being wrapped up and constricted and  _grabbed…_  
  
Sam crawled over to the other ball of tissue paper, his progress hampered by the turbulent movement around them. He put a hand over it, finding Jacob’s squirming form. He was so small that even  _tissue paper_  made it hard to move. “Hold still,” Sam said quietly. “I gotcha.”  
  
The knife sliced through the paper again, easily parting it in a straight line. Jacob, as stressed and shaking as Sam, was revealed. Sam reached a long arm in, scooping him the rest of the way out and wrapping his arms protectively around the little guy.  
  
This time, when a casual sway from Dean knocked Sam into a corner, he didn’t fight it. His body slumped down, one hand trying to rub away the burn on his neck. “Are you hurt?” he managed to ask as they were jostled in the bag. It was like riding a sailboat during a thunderstorm. Constant, unpredictable movement that they couldn’t see or predict kept them from settling down completely.  
  
Jacob grimaced from the swaying, but sighed with relief, glad to be free of the paper. He was caught fast in Sam's grip, with the miniature giant acting as a seatbelt for him. Without his help, Jacob would be tossed around in the bag no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. He remembered his time with the coins in the pocket, and didn't complain.  
  
Sam shook as much as Jacob, if not more. Their shared experience in the glass case would not be forgotten. They had been reduced to commodities, things for people to gawk at and consider  _buying_  and  _owning._  Most of them turned up their noses at the price tag still tied to them.  
  
A human life should be worth more than forty bucks, but Jacob wasn't human in their appraising eyes. He was a well-crafted object.  
  
The thought kept echoing in his head. He and Sam had just been  _sold._  
  
Jacob wriggled and managed to shift in Sam's grip so his face wasn't so smushed into the bigger man's chest. He could still hear his frantic heartbeat, but he could look up to meet the wide hazel eyes still tinged with fear of what had almost been. "Not hurt, no. You, uh. You okay? Did she wrench your neck or something?"  
  
Jacob’s question caught Sam off guard. He paused, realizing his hand hadn’t left his neck since slumping back. Twitchy, he moved it away. The burn of  _eyes_  on him hadn’t worn off at all, and the pain spread partway down his back as effectively as if someone had dropped a coal on his shoulders. Constantly tingling, burning, like pins and needles that would never wear off.  
  
He tried to focus away from it, grabbing onto Jacob’s question as a life vest. “No… I’m not hurt. At least, not like that. You, ah… remember how I told you I can feel eyes on me?” He paused, hearing how odd it sounded when he stated it out loud. “I’ve. I’ve never been near that many people at once before. All staring… It still burns. It hasn’t worn off at all like it usually does.” He rubbed his neck again, arm shaking. “So many people…”  
  
The motion outside stopped, the sound of a familiar door creaking open. After Dean had settled in the car, Sam found himself peering up as the top of the bag was opened. Dean’s face, worried and stressed, stared back down at him and Jacob. The burn on his back was still there, but it didn’t get any worse with his brother’s eyes. Jacob hadn’t had an effect at all when he’d looked at Sam either.  
  
“Hey, guys,” Dean said softly.  
  
A hand reached in, slipping easily under Sam in the bag. Both of them rose through the air, Sam clutching even tighter to Jacob as the bottom of the bag dwindled away. Two green eyes stared back at them as the bag was tossed aside.  
  
Dean saw Sam still shivering on his hand. “Crap, Sammy… I’m sorry. We should have found you sooner.” His other hand rose up, rubbing against Sam’s shoulder before both hands cupped around his brother and his best friend, holding them lightly against his chest, not far from a certain sprite lump. His wrist pinned Bowman in the hug, too, and Bowman squirmed in the pocket before realizing what was going on.  
  
All his friends. Finally safe after the terrifying morning.   
  
“You’re both safe now.”  
  
Jacob was almost completely engulfed. Caught up in Sam's protective hold, he was essentially stuck between the two brothers. On one side was Sam's rapid heartbeat, fluttering like a bird’s, and on the other was Dean's much slower, much more powerful heart. What light leaked past Dean's huge hands didn't illuminate much.  
  
Though he and Sam were both still shivering from the ordeal, from being trapped most of the morning where anyone could potentially purchase them, Jacob didn't mind being stuck now. Sam had his arms coiled around him, and all of Sam was pressed against Dean's massive chest. Jacob would have to go through a lot to get out of the embrace, if he actually wanted to.  
  
The feeling of safety he got here, Jacob had come to realize, was a rare and precious commodity, even despite the fact that the threat of zapping away to anywhere still loomed over him just like everything else. Jacob let himself unwind some of his tension, shivering in short bursts. He was damn tired of being so helpless, but at least he had people looking out for him.  
  
Bowman couldn't get out of the pocket to check on his friends. Instead, he shifted around so he was a little closer to his buddies. "Good to have you back," he greeted them through a layer or two of fabric. And it _was_  good. After the harrowing attempt to seek them out, Bowman had thought they'd be impossible to find, already picked up and taken away by some curious human. It had almost happened to Bowman in the park.  
  
"Y'know, it's pretty great to  _be_  back," Jacob answered, his voice tight from being completely wrapped up in a group hug.  
  
Dean tilted his hand away from his chest. “It wasn’t the same without you two.”   
  
Sam still shuddered almost uncontrollably, holding Jacob tight in his arms. Dean couldn’t blame him. He barely wanted Sam out of sight, but he had to drive. Had to get them to safety before anything else. If he needed to get any food or supplies, he could stop at a mini-mart once he knew they were in the room away from any other humans. “We’ll be back to the room in a few minutes,” he said reassuringly. “Until then, just hold tight, alright?”  
  
He lowered the hand down, edging it into a pocket. Sam slipped off, dropping down the three or four inches before Dean could get his hand all the way down. Sam felt a desperate need to get  _out of sight,_  even from just his brother. Just a few minutes away from scrutiny, some time to recover…  
  
Sam landed in the corner and his legs crumpled, refusing to support his weight. He clutched tight to Jacob, feeling a bit of the tension start to leave him in the comforting darkness. His eyes found the smaller human’s soft browns staring back.   
  
“S-sorry,” Sam said, realizing his arms wouldn’t stop shaking. He made an effort to calm the shudders. “Just…” he faded off for a moment, staring blankly into the distance. “When I was growing up,” he started again, wanting to explain at last why he was so affected, “Dad was showing me how to find supplies. There was one room that we passed… there was a kid in there throwing a temper tantrum. He… I forget why he was so upset, but he had an action figure.”  
  
The car above them started up, and movement started to rumble through the pocket. The swaying was cut down by their placement against Dean, and with Jacob tucked against Sam, he didn’t need to worry about being thrown around.  
  
Sam closed his eyes tight, remembering it like it was yesterday. “I never thought of stuff like that being scary when I was a human, but the kid… he tossed it on the ground and stomped on it. Almost pulverized it. And his parents didn’t bother stopping him. They just wanted him to… let his anger out. That was it. They thought it was  _good for him._  Didn’t even look twice.” Sam let his head fall, chin tucked against his chest.  
  
Jacob's eyes were wide in the dim lighting of the pocket. Pinned to Sam as he was, it was easy to feel every shudder that went through him. He got the clear sense that this wasn't a story Sam recounted to just anyone; from the sound of things, even Dean didn’t know it.  
  
It was humbling to receive that kind of trust at a time when Sam was wary of everything. Every twitch in the arms hanging onto Jacob belied how on edge Sam remained. Jacob felt the same; he could hardly believe Dean had actually found them.  
  
"Yeah, that's ... that's a pretty good reason to not want to be around kids," he said softly, unsure if he was supposed to say something but taking the chance regardless. "After something like that I don't blame you at all."  
  
Jacob tensed when the Impala turned, the metal behemoth leaning ever so slightly as she angled in a new direction. Other than the pocket shifting, Jacob didn't notice much jostling, thanks to the very solid grip Sam had around him. It was a good thing it wasn't painful, because Jacob didn't have the heart to tell Sam to let him go. Sam needed something to anchor on and it seemed like Jacob was doing the trick.  
  
Somehow, they were safe again for the time being. It seemed that safety was getting pricier and pricier. The consequences of not getting back to Dean were becoming worse and worse as the bastard running things raised the stakes.  
  
If Sam and Jacob had been separated in the toy store, someone could have died. If Dean had arrived five minutes later, Jacob would have no way to tell him how to find Sam. He’d have the description of a little girl who was already gone, out of sight in her own home, where she'd eagerly rip the tissue paper off of Sam, take his knife away, and turn him into a 'prince' for her make believe games. It would be a plain miracle if Dean was able to track them down again, though Jacob knew the elder brother would do whatever he had to.  
  
Dean was only one man, and as big as he was, the world was a very large place to lose people smaller than his hand.  
  
If Jacob had been sold first, he'd probably have wound up in a different display case somewhere, only taken out when all of the figures were needed for a game. Or maybe he'd have been locked in a foam case and shut in darkness until it was time to play, and he'd waste away in there. Or maybe-  
  
Jacob shut his own eyes tight, willing himself to stop imagining what hadn't happened. It only served to wind him up again. He sighed, frustrated that he had to imagine what could have happened to Sam in the first place. It was supposed to be  _Jacob_ facing all this trouble. Sam hadn't done anything wrong, and neither had Bowman, but the stranger had messed with them both now, with Jacob too powerless to make him stop.  
  
"Look ... I'm sorry you got dragged into that. I'm the one who's supposed to be the target of all these 'lessons.' You didn't do anything to earn that besides try to help me." He chuckled bitterly. "So I guess ... thanks. And sorry."  
  
Sam shifted, moving so his hand was over Jacob’s shoulders supportively. “It’s not your fault. No one will ever blame you, Jacob. Trust me. And we all know you’d do the same for us. Whatever lessons you’re supposed to be learning, Dean’s supposed to be learning too, right? So it isn’t just you. Until we get you back to normal, you’ll just have to stick with me.”  
  
Absently, he rubbed his other hand over his back. In the dark, out of sight from other humans, the pain had gone away, but there was still a low burn that wouldn’t dissipate. Anywhere there was no burning, a numbing blankness he’d never had before replaced it. The strange feeling of  _nothing_  where there should be  _something_.  
  
Sam settled back and tried to relax. “At least we’ll be in the room soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next:** March 21 st 2018 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	50. Listen for the Tick Tick Tick

Dean didn’t waste any time once he was back at the motel. He was out of the car in a flash, determined to get behind closed doors and check on all his friends. Even Bowman had been cooped up in the pocket for far too long to keep him out of sight.  
  
Dean sighed when the door was locked, and went over to the table. Sam and Jacob were gathered out of his pocket first. Jacob was still clutched in Sam’s arms, making it easier for everyone. Dean didn’t have to worry about not noticing him. Once they were on the table, he opened his jacket and gathered Bowman into a gentle fist before the sprite could try and struggle his way out. He let out another sigh, the tension filtering out as he took his seat, opening the hand for Bowman.  
  
Bowman stumbled and shot Dean a brief look for the lack of any warning. He hadn't been ready for Dean's hand to close around him and he hadn't been ready for the fingers to open up either, leading to a less than graceful return to solid ground. Soon enough, his focus was on Sam and Jacob. He walked over to them at a brisk pace.  
  
He squatted nearby, looking the pair over for injuries. Miraculously, even Jacob seemed unhurt (if a little compressed, but Bowman wasn't about to try to convince Sam to put him down). The pair was still clearly shaken, but with a satisfied sigh, Bowman determined that somehow they'd avoided any physical damage. He finally stretched his cramped wings out behind himself, trying to work out some of the tension in them. They'd been through a lot.  
  
"Thank the Spirit you're alright. Makes listening to Dean chat with that lady worth it," he quipped with a smirk, an attempt at banter to lighten some of the tension weighing down heavily on the four of them. If it were any more palpable, Bowman's wings might sag.  
  
"These things are weird," Bowman decided, picking up the plate-sized paper tag still tied to Sam's ankle. He couldn't quite make out the numbering on them; sprite number symbols diverged the most from human ones, and gave him the most difficulty translating. He helped Sam out, deftly untying the white string keeping the paper there.  
  
Jacob sighed and shifted so he could look around more. It finally started to sink in that they were safe again, back in the motel room where no one could see them and gawk at them and talk about gluing things to him. Or making Sam live in some toy castle. Here, they weren't toys.  
  
One thing had him curious. "So how  _did_  you actually manage to find us, anyway? I don't see any maps drawn on Bowman's wings."  
  
  
Dean grimaced. "No, Bowman's wings were left alone this time. Apparently it was more entertaining to tape him up in a rolled up piece of paper." He glanced towards the bed, where the crumpled piece of paper was discarded on the floor all on its own. The memory of how close he'd come to missing that catch as Bowman rolled off the edge came back to him. It was damn lucky his reflexes had worked, considering how his mind had tried to hang on to sleep. "He tried to get out and I woke up right when he rolled off the edge of the nightstand. Barely caught him in time."  
  
Leaning his elbows on the table, Dean rubbed his face, the stress from that morning still there. "We got the wrong place," he admitted. "It said what Sam feared the most and we went to that park in town, the one Sam always gets nervous about when we pass it. Bowman almost got caught by a bunch of kids and we found squat." One of his hands dropped to his pocket and he fished out Jacob's phone. He shifted his other hand so he was leaning on it. "But we did get this."  
  
Flipping open the phone, he opened up the picture message Bobby had sent Jacob. The image of Jacob, frozen stiff and surrounded by figurines the same size as him came up on the screen. Dean held the phone out so Sam and Jacob could see. "Without this, we might never have found ya. I texted Bobby and got a message back with where he'd seen your 'look-alike,' and here we are."  
  
Jacob stared at the picture, amazed. He'd started getting used to being completely dwarfed by everything, at least as far as one could get used to living in constant wariness. And yet it was still so strange to see, on a screen bigger than him, an actual picture of himself outsized by toys. Seeing himself like that, how small he really was ... it was discouraging.  
  
He picked up his jaw from the floor and twisted around. He knew from the solid grip of Sam's arms around him that he wasn't going to get down anytime soon, but Jacob could at least see better. He idly rested one of his arms on the much bigger one in front of him, glancing down at it briefly. Just Sam's forearm was almost the length of Jacob's entire body. His legs, dangling below the arms around him, barely reached Sam's lap. He really was the size of a doll compared to  _Sam._  
  
A sly smirk from Bowman was dismissed with a flat look from Jacob.  
  
"Well," Jacob said, raising his eyebrows at the stupid message from Bobby. "I guess I owe him too. Glad he didn't find me out, though."  
  
Closing the flip phone, Dean slid it across the table. With a jolt, it landed next to the computer. "Lucky break, for once. Especially since you got," his lips curled in anger at the thought, " _priced_  so much cheaper than Sam." He pinched Sam's price tag from the table, curling his hand angrily around it. The thought that he'd had to  _buy_  his own brother to get him away from that place smarted for Dean, and would probably hang over Sam's head for some time.  
  
Sam shifted at last, putting Jacob's own tag in reach. "There was more than one close call while we were there," he said quietly. A slip of his knife and the second tag fell to the tabletop to get snatched up by Dean as well.  
  
Both tags were crumpled between the huge fingers. "Once we get you back to size, you better hope this Bobby never figures out that it was actually you," Dean attempted to joke. "You'll never hear the end of it or see the last of that picture." Leaning over, he tossed the tags into the trash, out of everyone's line of sight.   
  
Nobody needed a reminder of them being  _sold_.  
  
Jacob rolled his eyes. "God, I hope that never happens. He'd be such a tool about it." Not to mention, that realization would come with knowing that smaller people existed all over the place. People like Sam and Bowman would have one more human knowing about them, and while Jacob liked his friend well enough ... he wasn't sure he'd be the best example of a person to have that much power over someone else. It was best that Bobby kept thinking it was just a toy he saw.  
  
Jacob leaned his chin on his hand, propping it up with an elbow on Sam's sleeve. He looked for all intents and purposes like he could be waiting at a window. Not smushed into a tense hug by someone almost three times his size. Sam, at least, wasn't squeezing his bruised ribs painfully. Not like the painful handling at the hands of the kid in the library and, more recently, the clerk who wrapped him up.  
  
"How about you, though, Dean. I thought for sure that clerk would give you her number after all that. Shoulda seen her face when you handed that girl some money, I thought she'd melt right there."  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, the tips of his ears turning a little pinker when he remembered that Sam and Jacob had both had front row seats to the fun, not to mention Bowman being tucked against his heart and listening to it all. The memory of her warm chocolate eyes staring into his did nothing to him after the way he’d seen her callously force Sam’s arms and legs into the tissue paper. One hand clenched into a fist under the table as he recalled the scared glance Sam had shot him before vanishing into the light green paper. His little brother shouldn't have to be  _afraid_  like that, ever. “You’ll have to pay attention. You might learn a move or two,” he said, managing a small smirk at the memory of Jacob’s luck in the same type of situation.  
  
“ ‘Course,” Dean went on, “If you need a little help, you could always hit her up.” He tossed the crumpled up receipt onto the table not far from Sam and Jacob. A phone number sketched out in bubbly blue letters was inked across the top, written out after she’d wrapped his brother and best friend up and dropped them into a bag. A subtle shift in her smile had invited him to call anytime. It had taken him longer to get away from that store than he’d wanted, knowing that Sam and Jacob were still trapped, only this time in his hands. Dangling haplessly in a  _shopping bag._  “She seems like your type.”  
  
It was Jacob's turn to turn slightly pink. He rolled his eyes at the numbers written out, frankly wondering how Dean did it. He'd talked to the girl for less than ten minutes, and this wasn't the first time he'd managed to charm the socks right off of a woman before. A skill that Jacob didn't have, nor did he really care to have, but that Dean gave him endless shit about anyway. Dean probably took the chance to tease Jacob about it because teasing Sam about something like that would be heartlessly cruel. Sam didn't exactly have the option.  
  
Jacob dragged a hand down his face in exasperation before shrugging, resigned to it. "Oh, all according to plan. I live for having the most interesting ice breakers."  
  
Jacob couldn’t help the resentment he felt for the stranger. She’d looked him over with appraising eyes, deciding how much money she could make off of him, and he'd been casually stood up and posed in a high display case. She'd laughed as the teenagers who might have bought him joked about  _modifying_  him, because he was cool but not cool enough for their games. Just an object.  
  
Dean balled up the receipt and tossed it in the trash to join the price tags. “That would be one hell of a story to start off with. Guess she’ll have to wait for another guy to come drifting into town.”  
  
Everyone settled down after that. Sam, still shaken from his experiences, didn’t put Jacob down for over another hour. They both sat to the side, watching Dean work on the computer with wide eyes. Bowman found a sunbeam, stretching out his wings to soak up the warmth.  
  
Eventually, Sam realized that Jacob was shifting uncomfortably in his arms. “Shit, sorry,” Sam whispered, letting him onto the coarse wooden surface. Once he was out of his arms, his hand went to his neck. The burn was gone, leaving a numbness that didn’t even react to Dean or Jacob glancing at him. One of his best abilities, gone just like that. He could only hope that the overload was short term and would wear off soon. He  _needed_  that ability.  
  
Dean realized he was hungry half after three. He ended up ducking out of the room to grab some grub, since they’d run out again and, considering their current run of luck, no one wanted to risk having a deliveryman come anywhere close to where Sam, Bowman or Jacob could get spotted.  
  
Ten minutes after he left, no one noticed the shadow that fluttered down from the door outside as a man came up to it.  
  
The edge of the  **DO NOT DISTURB**  sign would have just been visible to them if anyone had glanced over at the entryway as it landed partway under the door.  
  
A steady  _tick tick tick_  could be heard as a lockpick worked at the door, taking advantage of the only guest staying there being gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam didn't put Jacob down for a very long time.
> 
>  **Next:** March 25 th 2018 at 9pm.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love


	51. And Then There Was One

Sam took over the work on the laptop, leaving Jacob not far away sitting on the warm base. He revisited any possibilities that Dean had searched earlier, carefully double-checking the work to make sure that nothing was overlooked. The noise from the door was lost to him in the background as he stepped from key to key, occasionally leaning over with a hand to try to reach another key while he stood on the  **Shift**  key.  
  
Bowman, after enough time in the sunlight, fell into a light doze right where he was sitting. His wings remained open, flared as if on their own to continue soaking up the sunlight. Jacob watched them cast a shadow like stained glass, vibrant green stretching across the far side of the table.  
  
The sprite, though he was asleep, looked as stressed as any of them. After hearing about his close call with the children and their  _net_  (Bowman had a lot of his own sprite swears for describing that net), he couldn't blame him.  
  
Bowman was just as out of his element as Jacob was, in many ways. He didn't understand most of the gigantic things around him, and of the small people on the table, he definitely drew the most attention. It was the exact opposite of what he was used to, living among the trees where he was all but invisible in the verdant canopy.  
  
Jacob sighed, letting his own eyelids droop. The humming and spinning of the hard drive beneath him created a steady rhythm and a pervasive warmth. A sleep-deprived person like Jacob could easily succumb to it.  
  
He might have drifted off, if the door hadn't creaked open.  
  
Jacob sat up straight again, expecting Dean to come swaggering back into the room with food. Already Jacob's stomach complained impatiently. He turned to look at the enormous door across the unfathomably large room.  _’Bout time_  almost passed his lips, but instead Jacob's eyes widened.  
  
The man closing the door behind him  _wasn't Dean._  
  
Dark eyes panned the room quickly, searching for any occupants. The moment the eyes passed over the table, they zeroed instantly in on Sam’s focused steps on the keyboard, then switched to the smaller Jacob. Greed and amazement glinted in dark eyes, framed by a burly, bushy face.  
  
Sam, who was too focused on the laptop and whose ability to tell if someone was watching him had burned out from too many eyes. Too many children and too many gazes, all adding up to a numbness that erased any hope of sensing the man towering over them.  
  
Jacob jumped to his feet. They were all in plain sight. There would be no convincing this guy they were toys, with Sam stepping on the laptop keys. He probably originally intended to steal the laptop and anything else easy to grab to sell for quick cash. Instead, he found three people smaller than his hand.  
  
Easy to grab  _and_  worth a lot to the right buyer.  
  
The stranger descended on the table like an enormous vulture that blotted out the sky, and Jacob backpedaled hastily. He tripped and fell backwards over an arrow key as the guy stooped to get a closer look. He was so  _big._  Unlike Dean, he was not trustworthy in the least.  
  
Bowman came to when the man’s shadow cut off his sunbeam. He gasped harshly, and his wings tucked quickly to his back protectively. A blasted giant had found them. Every alarm bell in his head instantly started going off. “Sam!”  
  
“Hm?” Sam asked, tilting his head around. The sight of the completely unknown stranger staring down at them in amazement made his eyes widen. He’d never even heard the door close. He was relying too much on his sixth sense if he’d missed a clue like that.  
  
The man paused, eyes full of greed as they stared down at the three living dolls on the table. A hand moved in Sam’s peripheral vision. The next instant, he was diving forward as the stranger started to grab for the closest person to him.  
  
Jacob.  
  
“Hell no!” Sam snapped. Throwing himself at Jacob, he managed to get a hand on the small jacket before the stranger grabbed him. Yanking Jacob out of the way, he put himself right in the path of the massive hand, knowing it was the only way he could hold off the stranger long enough. “Bowman! Get him out of sight!” he hollered, knowing that they couldn’t afford to risk Jacob around  _anyone_. One wrong move would mean his end.  
  
Bowman didn't wait to be told again. Even while Sam engaged the human, Bowman darted at the computer to where Jacob stumbled near its edge. He was dazed from Sam moving him aside so quickly; he was small enough that even Bowman and Sam moved too quickly for him to keep up easily.  
  
Bowman wasn't about to make it easier on him. While Sam was caught up in unfriendly hands, Jacob was gathered up in Bowman's arms. Bowman tucked Jacob against his chest with tense arms and swept him away from the danger. Swift wings and a strong leap carried the pair away from the table in a flash of green.  
  
Sam’s knife was out before the giant could snatch at him. He twitched forward, drawing blood on the closest finger. The blade slashed right below the nail, in the quick. A weak spot he and Dean had focused on during their training. Dark, angry eyes narrowed at him as the man pulled his hand away, spotting the blood pouring out.   
  
“Why you little…” he hissed.  
  
The next time, both hands lunged for Sam. He gave a cry, stumbling backwards to try and get out of the way. He was too slow. Both closed over him, sealing him in a dark hold. His knife flashed out again, cutting into one of the palms covering him. That hand receded, but the other closed securely around him, fingers wrapped around his arm so he couldn’t move.  
  
Sam was almost spitting in anger as the hand lifted away from the table, taking him with it. His knife was plucked from his hands and flicked to the side. The metal clattered to the tabletop, out of Sam's line of sight. Unreachable.  
  
“You’ll make me a pretty penny,” the man said with a gust of bad breath.  
  
Before Sam could react, he was tossed into a dark space. He crashed down into a slump at the bottom of the enclosure, trying to claw his way to the top even as it sealed over him.  
  
While Sam struggled in his new prison, Bowman was trying to find a place to hide his vulnerable friend before returning to help. His usual strategy of shooting up into the canopy of leaves and branches was out. He was far from home. Far from his usual hiding places. He swooped downwards instead, aiming for the nightstand between the beds. The shelf beneath it would have to do.  
  
He almost skidded to a halt in the shaded space. He dumped Jacob in the corner with an apologetic look. "Stay hidden," he advised, already turning away once more.  
  
"B-Bowman, wait!" Jacob protested, coughing in surprise from his rapid transitions. His ribs burned from Bowman's quick grab, but it was easy to tell the human would have done worse.  
  
"I have to help," Bowman shut down any further insistence by flaring his wings open with a snap. He took flight again, kicking off the edge of the low shelf. He had to help Sam.  
  
When he returned to the table, Sam was nowhere to be seen. Bowman turned his glare on the human. "What have you done?!" he snapped, trying his hardest to come off as threatening. Maybe this human would think he could do some kind of magic, like the others had assumed. Maybe.  
  
The stranger straightened with a sneer, glad the other one had come back so easily. The smallest one was gone from sight, but this one… those green wings would fetch a price. Almost elfin or fairy-like. The small bag swinging by his legs kicked at him, the other man he’d captured trying to thrash his way to freedom with stubborn determination. He gave it a quick shake, making the small body slump down to the bottom from the disorientation. “C’mere, you,” he grunted, swiping a hand towards the tiny man flying in the air in front of him.   
  
Bowman scoffed. He hadn't expected an actual answer, not from a man who only looked at him like an oddity. When a hand swiped at him, he had no desire to entertain the man's delusions. He took a breath and felt for the air currents shifting around the hand rushing at him.  
  
Like a current of water, Bowman followed that air, tucking his wings at just the right angle to slip around the grab and avoid the fingers closing around him. He narrowed his eyes and kicked off the giant wrist.  
  
He surveyed the human's appearance for a split second before finding the bag he held. There was a shape writhing at the bottom. "Sam!" Bowman called out, almost diving towards it. He knew from one glance that he wouldn't be able to break the grasp on the bag. Bowman looked over his shoulder, hoping to find Sam’s knife somewhere. If he could only cut a hole in that container, Sam could escape with his hook and rope.  
  
“Little bastard!” the stranger snapped. He went for the sprite again, his hip slamming into the table when he overshot his grab. The bag holding Sam smacked against his leg, and he had to catch himself, sending an old flip phone flying towards the edge.  
  
Inside the bag, Sam was tossed down to the bottom, dizzily blinking up at nothing. His head spun for a second before he was able to even think about trying to get back up, attempting to get his bearings.  
  
As the phone landed with a clatter, the stranger lunged at those bright green wings again, determined to catch this creature. A tiny human was one thing, but with those wings, he’d make a  _fortune_  if he could find the right buyer. Forget about some two hundred dollar laptop, this could be worth  _millions_.  
  
Bowman couldn't give him any more opportunities. He needed to get Sam free, or at least stall the human until Dean came back ... whenever that was. Either endeavor looked more hopeless the more the seconds dragged on. But he had to try.  
  
Bowman caught a glint of silver near the far edge of the table. He started for it. As he turned, an errant swipe from the human knocked into Bowman's legs, sending him spinning head over heels.  
  
A huge palm slammed into his back, and fingers the size of his body looped around him. Bowman's wings were crumpled uncomfortably to his sides by thick, callused skin and he cried out in pain. "Let me go, you foul mushroom heap!" he spat. Almost as an automatic response, Bowman leaned forward and snapped his teeth closed on the index finger compressing his chest.  
  
“Ah, gahddammit,” the stranger growled. He tightened his fist, crushing the small, winged man that he’d managed to catch. The bag was open in seconds and he shoved his hand in, opening it to dump the other person in with the first. “Fuuck…” he muttered as he tied it closed in case they tried anything. He gave it one last shake as he sucked his thumb, trying to get the bleeding from the knife attack to stop. “Serves you two right.”  
  
He glanced around the room, trying to find where the third one had vanished to. Past a shirt that was being used as a bed and a small sack of tiny clothing, there was no sign of him near the nightstand.  _Who the hell is this guy?_  he thought to himself incredulously at the sight of Dean’s accommodations for his small friends.  
  
He did a scan of the rest of the room, trying to see if he was under the beds, by the dresser… by the time the burglar gave up, the clock was ticking. The person staying in this room could be back at any second. He only paused to grab the discarded wallet on the table, tucking that into his jacket. The rest he left alone. A laptop as old and clunky as that one would be deadweight, and the rest was just as useless to him.  
  
He hefted up the bag with a smirk. “You two will make me rich,” he chuckled as he opened the door. He poked at the squirming forms. “I just can’t wait to see what you’ll go for.”  
  
Bowman squirmed away from the rough pokes intruding on their limited space. "Climb up a dead tree and fall out of it, human!" he hissed. Soon the vast door closed and Bowman could tell that he and Sam were outside. In a cloth prison, but beyond the relative safety of the room they'd taken up residence in.  
  
Bowman fell silent in case there were other humans around, but he never gave up pushing against the sides of the bag. His wings were folded at tender angles to his back, startlingly numb after the harsh squeeze. Bowman could tell his entire torso would be a mess of giant finger-shaped bruises, but he wasn't as injured as Jacob.  
  
"Blast it," he said under his breath. He slumped back down as the bag swung at the human's side. There was no hope of Bowman climbing to the top. "Jacob's all alone in there," he told Sam, though he couldn't see the sprite-sized human in their dark prison.  
  
There was a loud click as an unfamiliar car's door opened. Then, the two captives were winded when the bag was tossed down on the passenger seat. With the top tied so securely, it didn't matter that they could crawl to it now.   
  
There was no escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp.
> 
>  **Next:** March 28 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	52. The Waiting Game

The silence rang like a set of broken bells in Jacob's ears, a screeching melody over the bass pumping of his hammering pulse. Gone. Sam and Bowman were  _gone._  The door sealed Jacob in the room that'd put the grand canyon to shame, and left their fates unknown to him. His friends might as well not be on the same planet as Jacob anymore, for all the good he was to them.  
  
It all happened so  _fast._  The man leaning over to peer at them with both greed and curiosity. The room-sized hand extending towards them. Jacob moved rapidly aside as Sam ... Sam stepped forward to defend him yet again. That knife, half Jacob's length, had looked so small against the backdrop of a titanic face even as it stubbornly flashed into motion. And then Jacob was flying.   
  
Now, he was alone in the vast hall formed by the shelf under the nightstand. Stranded. He stood at the edge of the steep drop of a few inches to the carpet. He couldn't see past the beds. He couldn't see out of the mountainous region that the innocent looking furniture had created. The slamming of that door haunted his ears and settled in the back of his head as a dull ache.  
  
 _They've been taken away because of me,_  he thought despairingly. Bowman would still be in the woods. Sam would probably have gone in Dean's pocket to get food while they worked a simple case. Jacob would have gone on home, not causing anyone any trouble.  
  
He dragged his hands through his hair and breathed quickly. He had no idea when Dean would return. In the meantime, each step from the bastard that took away Jacob's friends carried him a city block further away. Jacob could never hope to follow.  
  
"FUCK!" The swear barely made it a few feet before the sound was absorbed by the worn carpet threads below and the gaping air above. Jacob covered his face, twisted in a grimace. There were no ethereal sounds of snapping fingers involved in this. Just some opportunistic human who had decided to break in hoping to make a quick buck.  
  
Instead, he'd kidnapped two people with ease. He'd be impossible to figure out. At least the stranger that shrank Jacob had a twisted goal of teaching Jacob lessons in perspective. He was getting a heavy dose.  
  
His friends were in peril, and Jacob was  _useless_  to help them.  
  
Useless. Helpless.  
  
Jacob looked out over what he could see of the room again. The floor under the beds was dark. Twin forests of dustbunnies and forgotten items left by the negligent cleaning staff stretched on either side. The crumpled paper with bits of tape still clinging to it rested innocuously near Dean's bed, the one and only clue he'd had to find Jacob and Sam just that morning. What felt like miles ahead of him, the shadows under the dresser promised a similar landscape. Between the furniture, at least, the carpet was mostly clean.  
  
That's when Jacob noticed a piece of plastic he hadn't noticed before. Worn out and scratched and sporting an old LCD screen on it.   
  
His phone!   
  
His phone had been knocked to the floor in the scuffle. Dean would notice it there like a beacon as soon as he came back in the room.  
  
Jacob inched up to the edge of the shelf and sat himself down cautiously. With a wince, he turned himself to slip over the side, clinging to the edge with both hands. It was a drop twice his height. The last thing he needed was to land wrong and screw up an ankle. He'd be too vulnerable this close to the floor without some added injury.  
  
Jacob took a deep breath and let go. He winced and fell onto his back immediately after landing. His ankles didn't break, but they protested with a flare of pain and a refusal to hold him up for several seconds. He took shallow, gasping breaths as he lay there, looking up. The ceiling was so far away that he almost couldn't make it out. It was just a tan sky, something unattainably out of reach.  
  
Jacob forced himself to sit up. His ribs burned and his many other bruises stung, but he  _had_  to get to that phone. The thought of being somewhere in the room while Dean didn't know where he was terrified him. Dean was just too big to be unaware of Jacob. His best friend ... too dangerous. It stung Jacob even as he started his run towards the phone.  
  
Even just running a foot along the worn out fibers of the dark carpet put stitches in Jacob's sides. He was too exhausted. Too close to the end of a fraying rope. His body had been through so much since he'd been reduced to over forty times smaller than he should be, but he pushed it further. Just a few more steps, he kept telling himself. Just a few more.  
  
It felt like it took him ages, with each breath drying out his lungs more. Jacob felt like the beds on either side were like fallen skyscrapers and he had to reach the far end. When he finally did, he looked across to his phone, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his hoodie feeling extra warm. He took a step, and paused.  
  
It was two feet out on the open floor.  
  
He'd run this far, keeping close to the edge of the bed. It was exposed, but not as bad as it would be when he stepped away from all furniture. The room gaped above and around him. The floor was a wide plain of dark carpet fibers worn out from countless humans walking past. Jacob understood now what made it so disturbing for Sam to step away from the bed. He'd be so easy to spot.  
  
That was the entire point, though. Be out in the open so Dean could find him and they could save the others. He started a more relaxed jog towards the phone, finally nearing his destination. He could wait there for Dean to return and get a lift off the floor. Until then, everything down here was a danger to him.  
  
His jog was interrupted by the sound of two thunderous knocks on the motel room door, a signal that Dean had worked out with Sam so the small hunter would know he didn't have to take cover. The power behind those knocks almost made Jacob fall over. His jog turned into a sprint to cover the last several inches, racing against time to be in position.   
  
He  _needed_  to be next to the phone. It was the only place Dean would notice him. The enormous room around him seemed to agree with him, the furniture looming overhead in a startling show of perspective. Every shadow was threatening from down here.  
  
Practically smacking right into the car-sized phone, Jacob arrived just as the doorknob began to turn. He sighed with relief as he straightened himself to stand next to the device. His breathing started to slow after the marathon he'd just run to get to the phone.   
  
Jacob waited patiently to be found.  
  


* * *

  
Near the top of the bag, Sam grunted with frustration, trying to latch on to the knot the human had tied on them. His hands were too small to get a proper grip. “If only I had my knife…” he muttered to himself, quiet enough that the human driving the car wouldn’t be able to hear him.   
  
So far the burly man hadn’t said a word since taking them and shoving them in a bag. Sam’s hands curled angrily. He was probably congratulating himself for his ‘find.’ A miniature person and a ‘fairy,’ clearly a better haul than just some guy’s laptop and wallet.  
  
Sam’s hand slipped. “Son of a  _bitch_ ,” he snapped angrily.  
  
Bowman, farther back from the tied opening to give Sam room, frowned in the dark. It sounded like Sam was making no more progress than he could have done. The sprite's wings were partially unfurled, pushing awkwardly against the material of the bag around them. It wouldn't loosen. They were stuck in tight quarters, with almost no light leaking in.  
  
"Sam," Bowman said, plenty of trepidation in his voice. Who knew what this human would do with them? How would he choose to keep them in line, and where would he send them? Bowman had heard the human mention that they'd make him rich; but what then? "Maybe we should save our energy?"   
  
Just saying it put a bad taste in Bowman's mouth. He was always the one who kept fighting, regardless of the odds. His recklessness usually only affected himself. Now, with Sam trapped with him and Jacob on his own in a humongous room where Dean didn't know where he was, Bowman felt the need to play things more carefully. The soreness from the harsh squeeze on his body made him wince if he took too deep of a breath. Bowman couldn't waste all of his energy trying to push away this bag.  
  
"He didn't seem to know anything about us, so maybe he won't be very well prepared to keep us trapped. If he opens up the bag, there might be a chance to get away then."  
  
Sam snapped a glance his way, but held back any angry words. He could see the outline of Bowman in the dark, wings partially outstretched. Though the sprite was blind, years of making his way through dark walls had afforded Sam clear enough vision to make out Bowman’s worried face. The small amount of light that leaked in was more than enough for him.  
  
With a sigh, he sat back. “I hate not being able to help,” he growled. “Bastard almost got a grip on Jacob, and now Dean has no idea where any of us are,  _including_ Jacob. He already has trouble talking to him when they’re only a few feet apart!” His words, though vehement, were soft enough that they wouldn’t be audible outside of the bag. Hopefully.  
  
He punched the side of the wall. “At least I still have my satchel,” he let out begrudgingly.  
  
Bowman flexed his wings in response to the agitated tone of Sam's voice. The bag resisted against the fragile wings, of course, forcing Bowman to fold them close to himself again. He didn't want to encourage the human to poke at them some more.  
  
The enormous car that carried them swung to one side, turning its behemoth metal body in a new direction. Bowman braced his hands on the best semblance of a floor they had.  
  
"He probably doesn't realize how useful it is to you," Bowman pointed out. If there was one thing he knew, it was that underestimating sprite-sized folk was easy. It was easy to trap them in containers like this, so that must mean they were completely and utterly helpless, by that man’s logic.   
  
Oddly enough, thanks to his worry for Jacob, being trapped and helpless in that bag didn't worry Bowman. He was closer to mad.  
  
"Maybe ... maybe when he opens this again I can distract him enough for you to find a way into the walls wherever he takes us?"  
  
Sam nodded along with the words, then realized Bowman probably couldn’t see him moving. “There’s always a way into the walls if you know where to look,” he agreed. “If I can just get away from him, I can search for a phone. Call Dean.”  
  
He scowled. “And I can tell him Jacob’s still in there, if he hasn’t found him by then.” Sam let himself fall against the side of the bag. It tilted, following his motion. He buried his head in his hands, letting the ache subside from being banged around and tossed to the bottom of the bag earlier. If only he hadn’t had his knife ripped out of his hands… this wouldn’t have gone this far. With Jacob out of sight they could have tried to find a way into the wall. Holed up until the man had left or until Dean had returned. Sam smiled grimly at the thought of what Dean would do when he got his hands on the thief.  
  
"So where did you put Jacob?" Sam asked. "If Dean can't find him by the time I call," there was no room for  _if_  in his mind, "I can give him a head's up."  
  
Bowman sighed, thinking about how jostled Jacob had looked when he all but dumped him in the back corner of the nightstand. They both knew that if Bowman stayed there, he'd be found. He couldn't hide among Sam's furniture like Jacob could at his size, and he had to go back and try to help. He may have hastily chosen Jacob's hiding place, but he knew there were few other options at the time.  
  
"I took him to your shelf under the nightstand," Bowman explained, turning his head a little to follow where Sam had leaned over. Bowman could barely see anything. His eyes were adjusted for the sunlight. He could see very well on a bright day, but this oppressive darkness left his eyes next to useless.   
  
"I didn't want to put him somewhere he might get caught in dust and I thought he could hide better there." Bowman thought his reasoning was sound enough, but it didn't stop him from worrying about his small friend. It wasn't Dean's fault, but the fact remained that the human had difficulty seeing or hearing Jacob. Hopefully Bowman had given him the best chance to find the smaller man.  
  
Sam wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them to his chest. Suddenly, out in the world like this with no friendly human around, he felt vulnerable. Small and exposed. Without Dean and Jacob, Sam and Bowman didn't have much chance of defending themselves.  
  
He let his head fall against his chest with a sigh. "Hopefully Dean finds him there, or thinks to look there. And I hope Jacob knows not to leave. He's too small to spot against the carpet if Dean's walking around." His shoulders slumped down, hating that he was forced to think of his own  _brother_  as a threat to one of their best friends.  
  
Even Sam would get hurt if Dean didn't spot him. There was a risk of being crushed. "Hopefully Jacob doesn't do anything stupid. I told him why I stay away from open spaces like that. Even around me and Dean it could be dangerous. And he's smaller."  
  
Bowman remembered the other night. Walking back to the nightstand, still drunk from his cap full of beer. How looming the entire room was from there, with all the boxy furniture looking like it leaned towards him threateningly. Bowman knew that feeling well from his time as a child before he learned how to fly. Even in the safe borders of the village, it was unsettling to look up and see the trees overhead, knowing that they'd be his best hiding place and that he couldn't get to them.  
  
To Jacob, the towering furniture was like a familiar, booming echo of something he knew. So much bigger than he was ever meant to see it. The wide plain of the carpeted floor would stretch on forever all around him. Everything was out of Jacob's reach down there.  
  
Including the attention of any humans walking about. Jacob would hopefully remember that advice and stay put where Bowman had left him.  
  
"Dean will find him. He's been paying much closer attention, I think." Bowman had noticed that Dean and Jacob both already took such care around Sam and himself. Dean had stumbled over Jacob's small size at first, but it was understandable. In truth, the only one who really hadn't was Sam. Even Bowman hadn't known how to act right away.  
  
"Then they'll figure out wherever we're going and come find us. Or we'll contact them somehow." Bowman said these things more to comfort himself than anything. He had a small seed of confidence in his claims, since the extent of human technology was beyond him still.   
  
"I hope so," Sam sighed. He leaned back against the confines of the bag, staring up at where the sky should be, or at least the roof of the car.   
  
But he only found the taunting darkness of their prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is a good plan.
> 
> **Next:** April 1 st 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	53. An Open Gulf Between Them

There was a discernable bounce in Dean's step as he returned to the room. With the news he'd received from Bobby, this entire situation had hope of clearing up at last.  
  
Dean had a target, and he had a way to kill it. Now he just needed to find it, and that was his specialty. After years of tracking down monsters, one more wouldn’t be any different.  
  
Even the broken toe that flared up occasionally with red hot shards of pain couldn't get him down. Only the slightest hitch in his step even gave away the injury. The thought of not only getting Jacob back to size but also  _ganking_  the sonovabitch that had cursed him had brightened up Dean's day. He just wished there was a way to get Jacob back to his normal Sasquatch-size sooner so that Jacob could land the killing blow. After everything, he’d earned it.  
  
Two knocks on the door later, Dean swung into the room, not noticing the  **DO NOT DISTURB**  sign under his boot. "Good news!" he announced, tossing his jacket onto the bed with a  _whump_. He couldn’t wait to tell them about his phone call. "Bobby figured out what the bastard we're dealing with is! Just in time, too, I never thought we'd..." he trailed off as he glanced around.  
  
"Sam?" he called out hesitantly. The laptop was dark and quiet, and there was no sign of the small hunter that he'd left working on it. "Bowman?" Every sunbeam leaking into the room was empty.  
  
Dean walked hesitantly over to the table, his green gaze scanning it for Jacob's smaller form. "Jacob?" The last name he called didn't have much hope behind it as he spoke up. If Sam and Bowman were nowhere to be seen, and Jacob was gone...  
  
 _What the hell happened here?_  
  
He put a hand down on the table as he thought things over, lips pursed. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something tossed carelessly on the floor not far from the dresser, and close to the hole in the wall the others had used to find Jacob the other day.  
  
Jacob's phone.  
  
Dean frowned, his eyes shifting back to the table. Jacob's wallet was gone, along with the others. They  _wouldn't_  have moved the wallet. They had no reason to, and Jacob, the only person that ever had any reason to use it, was too small. "Crap," he muttered. Something was wrong. Something was  _really wrong_.  
  
He stepped over to the phone, a boot landing on either side. With one swift move, it was in his hand and open, desperately searching for a message. Just like the one that had told him where his friends were earlier that day. Anything that might help him figure out what had happened in the still, silent room. As he straightened again, he frowned, finding nothing.  
  


* * *

  
A voice like thunder echoed in the air overhead as the hunter entered. Jacob waited patiently while Dean talked to an empty room, knowing he hadn't realized that anyone was missing yet. Jacob even managed to only flinch a little from the sound of that building-sized jacket slamming onto the spare bed, pushing the air away in a gust that would send him flying.  
  
Jacob knew calling out to Dean was useless. Dean couldn't hear him from a few feet away. It would be impossible for him to hear Jacob across the expansive motel room.   
  
So he waited.  
  
When Dean finally noticed the phone, Jacob sighed with relief, glad to see those green eyes looking in his direction. Soon he'd be able to get back to the table. A place where those enormous boots didn't stand taller than him. Where a chair leg scraping along the ground couldn’t hurt him.   
  
There was a moment's pause, then Dean stepped towards the phone. Jacob stood his ground as the bus-sized shoes stomped towards him. Dean approached with the usual swagger, but with a slight hitch when one of the boots landed, and greater speed thanks to growing concern.   
  
Jacob clenched his jaw at the sight. His instincts were screaming at the approach of something so large he would never be able to escape. Inside, he knew Dean wouldn't step on him; he would find Jacob soon enough.   
  
Jacob just needed to trust him.  
  
The boots slammed into the ground, halting on either side of the phone. The rumbling in the ground actually made him stumble back from the phone from the impact. Those boots alone were powerful. More powerful than Jacob could even imagine. And there was an entire hunter looming over him to back up the power in those boots, bringing to mind memories of Dean fighting, displaying a power only hinted in his demeanor now.   
  
 _Lucky it's just Dean._  Jacob glanced up as a shadow began to descend. A huge, familiar hand stretched towards Jacob and the phone, fingers thicker than tree trunks reaching out.   
  
Jacob braced himself to get swept up into safety.  
  
Only to see tree trunk sized fingers settle around the car sized phone near him.  
  
The phone soared upwards in Dean's solid grip. Jacob's eyes widened in shock and displaced air messed up his hair. He hardly noticed in the wake of such an unexpected turn. Staggering backwards, he tried to keep Dean's face in sight as the hunter straightened to his full, terrifying height. Jacob's jaw went slack as Dean flipped the phone open with a thumb, a casual motion executed with all the power of a car slamming into a wall.  
  
Jacob's heart pounded as his situation truly began to sink in. Dean's colossal height loomed directly overhead. Twin, denim-clad legs thicker around than an average room was wide stood on each side of Jacob. The torso stretching up beyond that was a wide expanse of shirt. An entire warehouse of fabric couldn't make such a massive garment. One of those enormous hands hung casually at Dean's side, and his intense green eyes, over three hundred feet up in the air at Jacob's scale, were fixed on the phone gripped in the other enormous hand. Not even a flicker of thought was directed towards the vulnerable hunter standing between those boots.  
  
Because Dean hadn't seen Jacob there.  
  
He'd looked right at the phone, an inch or two away, and  _Dean hadn't seen Jacob there._  
  
Jacob gripped a handful of his hoodie fabric and yanked his eyes away from the neck-breaking view of his best friend looming overhead. He stared at the dark fabric in his hands and instantly compared it to the dark carpet, the truth of his situation sinking in.   
  
His dark hoodie blended in too well against the  _floor._    
  
Dean hadn't expected Jacob to be standing next to the phone. His brain, focused on the device, had never even registered Jacob standing there needing help.   
  
Jacob was just too small for Dean’s gaze to linger on him long enough to  _see_  him.  
  
Too small to matter, and now standing between two titanic boots.  
  
Titanic boots that had no idea he was even there. That had no reason to suspect that one of Dean's best friends would put himself down on the floor in such a vulnerable position, at the mercy of an unknowing titan once more. Boots that could move at any second, in any direction.  
  
 _Lucky it's just Dean._    
  
Jacob's own mocking thought from earlier echoed in his head as he stumbled away. Knowing it was Dean up there no longer made a difference. It didn't matter who it was when Jacob was too small to be noticed. Those massive boots would crush him regardless. Dean would never even know.  
  
Jacob needed to get out of the open  _now._  He should have just remembered Sam's words. He should have waited near the furniture where he was safe. Dean would come looking. He always did. He'd have found Jacob soon enough on his own, without Jacob ever stupidly putting himself out in the open where he was most vulnerable.  
  
Jacob ran again. He ignored the way his lungs burned and his ribs ached. The pain wouldn't matter if he didn't  _get out of the way_. He darted between the huge boots while Dean deliberated over the phone. He needed to get out from between those massively dangerous, massively  _big_  boots. The moment Dean was finished whatever he was doing all the way up there with Jacob's phone, his time would run out. He pushed that thought away and focused. He could just dart around the heel of the nearest boot and get himself under the dresser. He'd be safe there. Safe from--  
  
The boot in front of him lifted up into the air, sweeping backwards in a huge step as Dean started to move away. Jacob gasped while unstoppable movement happened right in front of him, and he stumbled to a halt. Dean was turning towards the table. That was all Jacob could figure out. The boot planted, shaking the ground from the simple motion of taking a step.  
  
Suddenly all those times that Bowman complained about humans stomping made perfect, crystal clear sense.  
  
Jacob's heart skipped a beat while he watched. He took a deep breath. His path was unobstructed. He needed to move. He darted forward once more, desperate to get away.  
  
Without warning, a deep shadow eclipsed Jacob's small body. Instinctively, he dove to the ground with his hands thrown protectively over his head. The other boot was moving, this one sweeping by bare centimeters over Jacob's head as Dean moved.  
  
Time slowed to a crawl. He peeked up at the deep treads as they moved, a rush of air blowing by like a gale force wind from the displacement caused by such a massive movement. Specks of debris rained down on his head from the dirt packed between those treads, crushed in by countless steps supporting Dean's entire weight.  
  
The inexorable pass of the boot brought to mind the image of a Star Destroyer in Star Wars, searching for the small band of rebels. All it would take was one strike -  _one step_  - to destroy the rebels. To destroy Jacob. He was as helpless as they were if they were discovered, small enough to be squashed between those treads. His remains would be crushed in with the dirt and debris, not even a recognizable smudge after only a few steps, that immense weight pulverizing him beyond recognition.  
  
Jacob closed his eyes as the treads started to lower. The step was ending and he was under it. The image of the crusted soil taunted him, pointedly reminding him that he was about to join its fate as a tiny smear on the bottom of a rubber sole. He wondered how many bugs had met their demise under that same weight, either knowingly or unknowingly by Dean. How many ants had been crushed that he’d never even seen, simply continuing on his way when the step ended, claiming the lives of creatures the same size as Jacob without a second thought?  
  
An earnest, desperate prayer slipped out of Jacob's lips.  
  


* * *

  
With Sam and Bowman trapped in a black bag, the ride seemed endless. Time stretched on. Minutes became hours, so despite the fact that the ride to the human's destination was short, neither of the captives could name how long they'd been trapped.  
  
Eventually the engine turned off. Something tugged at the top of the bag, then the world went sideways as the burglar grabbed his stolen 'goods.' Sam and Bowman tumbled to the bottom in a heap, trying to untangle from each other's arms and legs (and wings) without hurting each other.  
  
Sam clutched his satchel to his chest, staring angrily up at the top as their enclosure began to swing back and forth to the rocking gait of a human. It felt disconcerting knowing it wasn't Dean or Jacob, trusted humans that had earned their share of trust repeatedly. If anyone could have seen Sam, they would have seen an unusually vicious snarl on his face.  
  
Bowman's own scowl was also more potent than he usually sported. The glare he reserved for Jacob or Dean when they were messing around was far more tame. His blind, bright green eyes were not effective in burning a hole in the bag despite the fire in them. He tried to brace himself in the bag, his wings tense and his hands tightly gripping the fabric.  
  
The swinging of the bag paused. A scraping of metal on metal sounded above, and then came the deep rumble of wood brushing against wood as a huge, stiff door was shoved open. Bowman flinched as the light coming into the bag all but vanished, casting them into more complete darkness. The human slammed the door behind himself before stumbling around, looking for the switch that would bring on the fake electric lighting.  
  
The bag was roughly dropped onto a flat surface. Bowman assumed it was wood as he and Sam once again jostled against each other from the sudden impact. He flared his wings as far as they would go in the bag, huffing in frustration. The human could be heard walking around and rummaging through things.  
  
Bowman's filters didn't usually hold out this long, but the way they remained trapped in a dark container finally wore on him enough. "Well gee, I'd tell you you have a lovely home, mister, but I can't see it! How about letting us out and giving us a nice blasted tour, you sunhated sneak?!"  
  
No response came, as they'd learned to expect. Not even a rough poke or prod to shut Bowman up. Distant rummaging could be heard as the man moved about the unseen house.  
  
Sam's skin crawled at the thought of being unable to see his surroundings, but being in sight of a human. The thought disgusted him. He shuddered, wishing there was something he could do to get them out.  
  
There came a crash nearby as something hit the surface they were on. There was no time to even wonder what it might be. The bag was swept up, the top opening up before Sam could get his bearings. Fingers looped around Bowman's squirming form before hauling him out with his wings in a firm grip.  
  
That was all Sam saw before the sprite was yanked out of the bag. Before Bowman could even think about his usual strategy of biting the human, a metallic clang could be heard, and a dark chortle. "Just wait here, pretty. Your friend will join you in a minute."  
  
That was Sam's warning. This time, when the hand swept down, he was prepared. Hand looped in the thick fabric, he braced himself on the side. The groping hand missed him at first, trying to grab him at the bottom.  
  
Then he leapt into the air.  
  
Grabbing onto the man's sleeve, Sam wasted no time scrambling up. A deafening shout came as the empty bag dropped away. He caught a fast glimpse of a cage with Bowman shoved inside. Gritting his teeth, Sam put it out of his mind. If he got caught, he was no good to anyone.  
  
The man tried to catch him again, fingers snatching. Sam made it to his shoulder, instantly swinging off the back to climb down.  
  
He didn't expect the shirt to suddenly sweep around him.  
  
The burglar was as opportunistic as Sam. The moment the small hunter was on his back, he peeled it off, revealing a white wife beater. Sam was trapped in the waves of fabric until a searching hand grasped his body.  
  
Then he was tumbling into the cage with Bowman. A lock snapped on the door behind him as it shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My reaction when i opened the chapter today for upload was "Oh lord," because here we are at last. There's no middleman for interaction between Jacob and Dean, and who knows what going on with this mysterious stranger that's been messing with them.
> 
> This should all go _swimmingly._
> 
> **Next:** April 4 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	54. Arachnophobia

A rush of air slammed into Jacob as the boot finally hit the ground. The impact rumbled the ground around him as Dean's weight fully settled down.  
  
Jacob's eyes peeked open, realizing that, instead of crushing him flat, the boot had come down a few inches away from where he cowered. The worn carpet underneath was completely flattened. If the boot had landed only a few inches to the side,  _Jacob_  would be the one completely flattened. Unlike the carpet, he'd never bounce back after that boot lifted up again.  
  
Instead, he'd become unnoticable among the mudstains that caked the treads, buried as more dirt was ground into the rubber. His remains wouldn’t be worth a second thought the day Dean cleaned them at last, or washed off in the rain, or when Dean was standing in puddles of blood, finishing up a hunt. Dean's life would continue on long after Jacob was mourned as lost.  
  
The horrified staring contest with the unforgiving heel shattered as Dean took another step, his foot continuing on towards the table in another sweeping motion. Time resumed its normal pace, letting Jacob take in a gasping breath. Somehow, a trial that Jacob had stupidly placed himself under was behind him, and he dearly hoped he wouldn’t make any more decisions that led to such a close call.  
  
As Dean made his way over to the table, Jacob scrambled up from the carpet with shaky limbs and dashed the rest of the way to the dresser without interruption. It had been close, but Dean hadn't crushed him under his boot without noticing.   
  
Jacob breathed heavily once he was under the edge of the dresser, stooping over with his hands on his knees from all his running. He could wait here. Once Dean figured out more about what happened, he'd come looking. Then Jacob was more likely to be noticed. He wouldn't be missed against the black carpet in the hunter's haste.  
  


* * *

  
With the phone silent and uselessly lacking messages, Dean dropped it onto the table. "What the hell happened..." he muttered, scanning the tabletop once more for clues.  
  
He swiped a hand over his computer's trackpad, waking it up. The screen brightened into the familiar, friendly colors of Windows. His eyes went right to the search bar, where the letter 'v' stretched across the screen, like someone had just stood on the key. Something had distracted Sam, and he hadn't come back to his work.  
  
Moments like this made him wish his laptop could be left recording. He'd know what made Sam stop typing, what had gone wrong.  
  
While he was doing this, a glint of metal caught his eye. Dean turned, frowning severely when he caught sight of Sam's knife.  
  
Covered in blood.  
  
" _Fuck,_ " Dean hissed. The knife was in his hands in a heartbeat. Something had happened to Sam, and  _he_  hadn't been anywhere around. He was a fucking failure. The tiny knife tumbled in his hand as he tilted it, the bloody metal still shining, the tiny blade still savagely sharp.  
  
As gently as he could, Dean dropped it on the edge of the laptop. He'd need to clean it soon, but for now, if any of his friends were in the room and unconscious or injured, he needed to find them.  
  
Now.  
  
"Sam? Jacob? Bowman?" He paused for a moment, letting the sound fade. "If you're in here, let me know. I'll find ya, I promise." Emotion rose in his chest. "And if you're not in here, I'll make the person responsible for this pay, and get you back." The promise was made to the silence, but in his head was just as binding as a swear made to their faces.  
  
He started his search by the nightstand, examining the ground around it meticulously. The thought of Sam or Bowman curling up in a corner and passing out from injuries haunted him. And Jacob... he was so small that anything could be a threat.  
  
Dean pulled out a flashlight from his jacket, larger and more powerful than the one he'd lent Bowman for the rescue in the walls.  
  
The light played over the dust under each of the beds. No one was collapsed underneath the mattresses, no one was backed up against a wall. Sam's room was equally empty, the tiny bed stripped of covers and abandoned. Behind the nightstand, by the bed poles... nothing.  
  
Dean checked the dresser next. Behind the television was clear of any collapsed sprites, and the dust had no sign of any footprints in it. Kneeling down, Dean had to flatten himself to see under the dresser. The light slowly swept from one side to the other, illuminating the darkness where his friends could be hiding.   
  


* * *

  
_Goddammit._  Jacob was kicking himself while Dean checked around the nightstand. The place Jacob had  _started._  Good ole’ reliable Dean had gone to the  _first place_  they might be hiding the second he knew his friends were missing. Dean’s broad back blocked it completely from sight. Jacob should have stayed there. Should have sat on Sam's bed kicking his feet and waited for Dean to come looking there.  
  
He'd been so shaken by the stranger coming in and taking the others. Jacob hadn't thought straight since that morning.  
  
He knew he couldn't risk answering Dean's call, or coming out from under the dresser. Dean would never hear him from across the room, and who knew what else  _might_. Dean had already almost stepped on him once without having an inkling that he was there. Jacob waited in the shadows, trusting that Dean would come by eventually.  
  
He kept towards the corner of the dresser. He didn't want to venture too far into the swamp of dustbunnies in the dark under the gargantuan furniture, but the rumbling in the floor as Dean brought the search closer made him flinch. Jacob shivered at the memory of the complete shadow that hung above him when Dean took a step over him. He was haunted by the memory of those treads that could grind him into the ground, leaving only a red smear.  
  
Jacob was so easy to reduce to nothing at this size. The fact was getting more and more unsettling the longer he went without the titan knowing where he was. Dean could destroy Jacob completely without even realizing it... even during his search. It would only take a second of not realizing Jacob was there.   
  
It burned him up to know that some unseen jackass was doing all this just to toy with him. He shouldn't have to fear his best friend. Not someone like Dean, who'd dedicated his life to  _helping_  others. Even now, he was doing his best to find Jacob.  
  
Jacob was so lost in thought that the flashlight beam swept over him before he realized Dean was even searching under the dresser. He put his arms up to shield his eyes an instant after the blinding light passed him by. He grimaced when he saw that the light continued to pan across the ground. It was already past him, and Dean still hadn't seen him.  
  
Jacob huffed with frustration. He needed to be proactive if he was going to get Dean’s attention. He was simply too small to be noticed. He took a few steps underneath the edge the dresser, keeping to its shadows. He needed to be closer to Dean before he even thought of yelling at him to get his attention.  
  
Then he'd  _finally_  be found and he could tell Dean what had happened. They needed to figure out where that burglar had taken Sam and Bowman before they got hurt. If they weren't already. Jacob was useless on his own to help them; the only person who could do anything was right there, unable to hear Jacob from barely a few feet away. He wouldn’t find his brother or the sprite that had tried to save that brother and had gotten himself caught in turn.  
  
Jacob needed to help him.  
  
A rustling sound just barely loud enough to hear caught his attention. His ears twitched and a chill ran right up his spine. The very faintest sound, it drew his eyes into the depths of the dust forest under the dresser.   
  
At first he didn't see anything.   
  
That didn’t last. The source of the noise dropped a block of ice into Jacob's very core.  
  
Eight long, segmented legs almost as long as Jacob was tall brushed against each other and against the dustbunnies. A thick, hairy brown body lumbered along, black eyes glittering from the light. Jacob opened his mouth, but couldn't even let out a yell of fear. He heard a click of fangs he couldn't yet see in the dim lighting.  
  
The wolf spider, startled by Dean's light, had caught sight of Jacob. Jacob, barely bigger than the arachnid, just waiting there to be jumped and preyed upon. He knew it would kill him without much effort on its part. Jacob was too weak.  
  
Something in Jacob’s resolve snapped, and any semblance of logic fled. Panic replaced it and surged into his exhausted limbs. Pivoting, Jacob darted away from the creature before it could get any closer to him. He  _had_  to get away.  
  
Suddenly, thoughts of getting Dean's attention, finding the others, and finding out why he was so tiny all left Jacob behind. The only thing that ran through his mind in a frantic, terrified chorus was  _Run!_  
  
Jacob's lungs ignited in painful fire once more. Every time he sucked in yet another rapid breath, it was like swallowing a mouthful of dust laced with shards of glass. His legs and arms pumped in a swift rhythm as he sprinted, and his heart beat like a bass drum, sending his blood coursing through his veins so forcefully it felt like his body vibrated with each frantic beat. His grimy, dusty skin burned with adrenaline and had a fine layer of sweat coating it. His injured ribs begged him to stop all this running.  
  
None of that mattered, his instincts reminded him. All that mattered was  _escape_. The primal fear imbued him with energy he didn't have. It enabled his limbs to continue stirring the air and propel him forward.  
  
The rustling behind him spurned him on. Jacob didn't need to look to know that the spider's long, segmented brown legs were brushing against each other as it scuttled after him. It placed its creepy spider feet in an artful, hypnotic pattern. It had to be some kind of impossible magic trick.  
  
But, as Jacob was keenly aware, it was  _very_  possible. Those legs with their rough hairs were carrying an enormous spider body between them, which by itself was nearly his size. The creepy legs merely made it bigger. And faster.  
  
Jacob and the spider both dashed out in the open, heedless of anything but each other. They navigated the worn down threads of the poorly-vacuumed motel room floor, Jacob very nearly losing his footing a few times. His every step was guided by instinct, urging him forward. By the frantic, panicking thought that, if he didn't take that  _one more step,_  he would die, and not without pain and suffering.  
  
If those fangs got into him, Jacob's body would fail him. He would fill to the brim with venom while the eight legged beast ignored his rapidly weakening struggles. Jacob would have no power in him to resist the unbreakable, sticky webbing. He would spin nauseatingly while it wrapped him up quickly and efficiently, a meal ready to be slowly drained of every ounce of life in him. A tidy parcel to drag back into the shadows where Jacob would spend the last hours of his life paralyzed and afraid.  
  
Alone and lost among the dust.  
  
Forgotten.  
  
As if the spider could sense his fear, Jacob swore he heard the fangs clicking together. Already dripping with venom and ready to sink into whatever part of him it got to first. It didn't matter. It wasn't as though his clothes would protect him, worn thin as they were. He'd be one of the easiest meals it would subdue.  
  


* * *

  
The light was steady as Dean aimed it into the shadows, squinting to try and make out if there were any familiar shadows lurking down there. On his second sweep, he spotted movement. The light was immediately trained on it, illuminating something that was decidedly  _not_  one of his friends.  
  
"Sonovabitch," Dean muttered, hauling himself back to his feet. The spider was fairly small, but all his friends were small along with it. Something like that would be able to deal some damage if it got a fang in Sam or Bowman, and it could finish Jacob off in one hit. The blood in Dean's veins turned to ice at the thought of it lurking in their room all this time.  
  
He came around the edge of the dresser, scanning the ground near his boots.  
  
 _There._  
  
The spider had darted out into the open, the last mistake it would ever make. Dean's boot was over it in seconds, and came down on the arachnid with a sickening crunch, pulverizing it with a resounding stomp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spiders are the one thing that will make me spring from one side of the room to the complete opposite side to get away from them.
> 
> **Next:** April 8 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	55. NOW LOADING...

The human glared in at Sam and Bowman, trapped in the cage and glaring right back. "You best be worth a pretty penny for all this trouble," he growled out. He tossed a wallet on the counter next to them. Jacob's wallet.  
  
Bowman's nerves wound up further. He hated having that selfish gaze on him, sizing him up. The man truly didn't see people when he looked at his captives. He saw his own gain. In his eyes, he could do whatever he wanted with them and it was okay because they couldn't offer him any resistance.  
  
Bowman was going to prove him wrong, even if his resistance could only be verbal. He wouldn't just lie down and let this happen. Even if he got himself into trouble like he usually did when he mouthed off, he might be able to buy Sam even a second somewhere down the line.  
  
The cage around them was bigger than the main room of Bowman's house, and quite tall. It left Bowman plenty of room to flare up his wings in his anger, almost an automatic reaction. The threat display worked on smaller mammals in the forest, making a sprite look too big to be worth the trouble. His bright green glare fixed on the face peering in and his hands curled into fists as he met that stare.  
  
"Pray to a rock, you Sprit-scorned mushroom heap," Bowman spat. High cabinets, grubby counters, and a doorframe leading to another room formed the backdrop for the focus of his glare. "You think you've got trouble now, just you wait."  
  
"Oh, don't worry," said the human in a voice dripping with scorn. He tapped against the cage, flicking the bars next to Bowman disdainfully. "I won't have long to wait. The moment I find a buyer for you, I'll be the least of your troubles." He grinned, his bristly beard stretching the smile into a facsimile of what it should be.  
  
The man took the top of the cage in hand, carrying it by the wire that it was meant to hang from. They were brought into a sparse room with a lonely computer lighting up the dark.  
  
The light was flicked on, illuminating a room that was equally grubby. Shelves cluttered with more knick knacks than books lined one side of it, and faded, peeling wallpaper could be seen everywhere. Sam's hands wrapped around the bars, his eyes flashing from side to side, sizing up their surroundings. If there was a chance for escape, there could be no hesitation.  
  
The man hung the cage from a bracket, most likely left over from when it was in use by an actual animal. Sam's heart went out to any creature that was forced to share a home with this man.  
  
Being suspended over three feet in the air wouldn't slow Sam and Bowman down as much as the man might think. Sam's grappling hook was tucked out of sight in his bag, with more than enough fishing line attached to get him to the floor. Even as the man sat down at the computer, Sam eyed up the lock, noting that it was in reach if the man left the room unguarded.  
  
Bowman, unlike Sam, had no supplies on him. All he had were the clothes he wore and no shortage of sharp comments to spit at their captor. Still, he prowled around the edge of their cage warily, trying to see any weaknesses in it. The metal bars were cold when he wrapped a hand around them. Every step was silent against the metal floor as he stalked around, trying to ignore the rhythmic swaying of the cage.  
  
He couldn't help but notice that, though there were some papers and pictures pinned to the walls in the room, there were no windows. No sunlight would be reaching in, and no opportunities to soak up the precious rays with his wings. He really would need to be careful with how he spent his energy. He could get some from the electric light overhead, but it was a paltry offering compared to actual sunlight.  
  
Bowman was already restless.  
  
Leaving the bottom portion of the cage to Sam's keen investigation, Bowman fluttered his wings and took to the air. Flying inside the cage sent an almost painful bolt through his heart and down into his gut.  
  
They were trapped.  
  
Even Bowman's wings couldn't get him out of this situation. In fact, judging by the way the human kept glancing at them, they only made things worse for him. Bowman was quite a prize for the human, much like he'd been when those children chased him in the park. Bowman’s strange appearance to them had only given them more reasons to prod and pull at him.  
  
There was a wooden bar hanging from the top of the cage, secured in place by two thin metal chains. Bowman alighted on it, his boots balancing carefully. One hand gripped one of the chains and he folded his wings loosely. The swing moved back and forth lightly as Bowman examined the bars overhead. All he needed was one opening.

[Artwork by mogadeer!](https://mogadeer.deviantart.com/art/com-Bow-swing-560365436)  
  
The man's work at the computer drew more and more glances as Bowman found no promising avenues for escape. Eventually, he found himself staring warily at the big machine as it hummed away, casting a ghastly blue light on the human's face.   
  
Sam's own investigation was cautious. He didn't show any interest in the door, or the lock that trapped them. Nothing to show that Sam was, in fact, keenly interested in both. Dean's lessons in lockpicking ran through his head and his fingers twitched with the desire to get on with it, but he needed to bide his time. Until the human left them alone, picking the lock would do no good.  
  
At one point, the man stood, taking a camera out to snap photos of his unusual finds. Sam stubbornly covered his face up, refusing to look into the lens. A jarring tap was the result, the entire cage set to swinging. Sam tumbled, his footing unsteady on the unstable ground already. He rolled into the side, his satchel off his shoulders.  
  
"Just one looksie and we're all finished here, pretty," the man leered at Sam.  
  
Sam tilted his head up, glaring. He flipped the man the bird, refusing to just sit quiet and pose.  
  
The camera snapped anyway and the flash lingered in a spot on Sam’s vision. The man hummed as he leaned over to Bowman to add his image to the gallery.  
  
Bowman shrank back as the human's looming shadow crept over him. His tight grip on the chain of the swing didn't let up for a second. The human's size, made so clear to him by the way he blocked the view beyond him, sent a shiver of fear up Bowman's spine.  
  
Then, when the glinting eye of the camera thing was pointed at him, Bowman remembered something that Jacob had told him about the things.  
  
“ _The pictures those take can last almost forever. You shouldn't let anyone use a camera on you, Bowman. It could put the whole village at risk._ ”  
  
That was the only advice Bowman needed to drive his next action. He hopped deftly off the swing, his wings shooting open with a snap. Though he didn't have much room, Bowman flew back and forth in the cage, occasionally gripping the bars to prop himself up before kicking off to the other side again. So long as he kept moving, the gaze of that machine couldn’t catch him.  
  
The man scowled at the sprite. "Quit it, you flit!"   
  
The next time Bowman fluttered over to the side, he banged on the cage. Bowman was caught by surprise by the bars striking his front, falling back in a daze while the camera snapped.  
  
Bowman hit the floor of the cage hard, a  _whuff_  of air carrying his breath out of him. His arms tingled from the jarring impact with the bars of the cage up above, and his back protested his landing on his wings when he fell to the bottom. While the swaying subsided, he tried to regain the feeling in his extremities.  
  
Sam was sent tumbling from the force as well, his own bag slamming into him when his body rammed into the hard side. He groaned, shifting against the ground.  
  
The man clicked through his pictures, unsatisfied. "I guess I'll jus' have ta take more if they ask," he muttered to himself. He made his way back over to the computer to load up the images.  
  
"Blast it," Bowman muttered, grimacing. His wings quivered when he rolled over on his side, letting them splay out on the floor of the cage behind him. While the human fiddled with his camera at the computer, Bowman hesitantly folded them up. The squeezes and the jostling were both beginning to wear on the small sprite. His wings were sore.  
  
Bowman pushed himself up to his hands and knees, casting a glare at the human before turning his concerned gaze to Sam. "... Are you okay?" he asked, almost sheepishly. After all, it was Bowman's antics that had gotten Sam knocked around this time.  
  
Sam shoved himself up off the ground. " 'M fine," he muttered quietly while he watched the man go back over to the laptop.  _Dammit._  All this time, he and Dean had managed to keep people his size off the map. One stupid mistake later and they might all be in danger, not to mention the sprites with them.  
  
The man attached the camera with a cord, clicking through a few prompts on the screen to get the download moving. Sam found himself once again holding the bars with bated breath, praying for a miracle to pop up and refuse to finish the download.  
  
But there was nothing, and a loading bar appeared in the screen. Sam's heart fell even further as he watched the green start to fill it. Soon, proof of them both would be online.  
  


* * *

  
The rumbling in the ground was merely a backdrop. Neither the pursuer nor the pursued paid it any mind as they continued their chase on the open floor. They didn't even heed the rapidly approaching shadow or the rush of air coming with it. Nothing else mattered until the winner of their race could be determined.  
  
Jacob thought he might be gaining a lead when the ground exploded.  
  
It was only after he was thrown forward from the shockwave that he realized nothing had blown up. The ground had simply quaked from a monumental impact, throwing him into the air and forward to land flat on his face. Something struck the ground with a force greater than Jacob could even fully comprehend at his tiny scale. It was so much greater than him. The impact rattled his entire skeleton, leaving him almost numb.  
  
He groaned and rolled over, looking back and expecting to see that spider leaping on him in smug triumph. Instead of the outstretched legs and eight beady arachnid eyes lunging for its cornered prey, Jacob saw a wall of rubber and leather.  
  
One twitching, hairy leg stuck out from underneath, the rest of the spider obliterated and soaking right into the carpet beneath the heavy weight. There was almost nothing left of Jacob’s most recent foe in his walk through the giant world.  
  
A sole of dark rubber covered in scuffs and smudges stood before him. Rising even higher above that was a wall of thick leather, covered in its own scratches and marks from the countless steps it had taken. One of which had just pulverized the predator intent on taking him.  
  
Panting from the scare and trying to get his heart rate down, Jacob's eyes trailed upwards. The faded denim of enormous jeans seemed to stretch on forever. He'd seen this view mere minutes ago when Dean grabbed the phone. Now Jacob was even closer to the enormous, devastatingly powerful boot. He wouldn't have guessed how much difference it made in the perspective.   
  
Knowing how close he'd come to joining that spider in its demise made all the difference in the world.  
  
Jacob had never seen the statue of liberty, but lying mere inches away from Dean's colossal boot gave him an idea of how it might look. Beyond the towers of his legs there was the impossibly large chest that Jacob had trekked on and been pinned to the other night. Because he was so small, he was barely even a tickle to Dean.  
  
Like a tiny bug, easy to brush away. Easier even than that spider had been to snuff out.  
  
Jacob's breathing halted when he was looking straight up. Dean's face, so far away, had a very clear look on it. A concentrated frown glared down at Jacob from the sky like the face of a coming storm.  
  
This time, it was glaring at  _him._  
  
Seeing that glare up close had been intimidating. Despite his cranky outburst the other morning, that glare had made Jacob want to find a hole to curl up in and hide. Seeing it now, from so high up, was worse. Dean’s eyes were locked directly on  _Jacob,_  right after killing a spider with the simplest of movements. And Jacob, from that angle, was just another bug to Dean. Even as Dean leaned down closer, green, Jacob-sized eyes squinting, recognition never crossed his face.  
  
He couldn't tell it was Jacob.  
  
Panic erupted again and replaced every other thought in Jacob's head and every drop of blood in his veins. With a frantic heart and pained lungs, Jacob rolled over and scrambled to his feet, adrenaline almost turning him to jelly in the first surge.   
  
He bolted.  
  
Jacob knew in the back of his mind where logic was sequestered that he was doomed. Dean was too big. Too fast for someone so tiny to ever hope to escape. Just another step and then the pest problem would be taken care of.  
  
_Just one more step._  
  
One more step, while Jacob would need to sprint dozens to have a hope of escape.  
  
Logic or not, Jacob's terror blinded him to everything else. The dresser seemed like a mile away after his sprint out from under it, but he would dash for it and dive under it and  _hide_  where he was safe from the bus-sized boots that wanted to crush him instantly.  
  
Thunder rumbled overhead. Jacob thought maybe he was just imagining it. The sounds of words made it to his ears, but his brain never processed them. He was too busy running for his life. He had to get away. He needed to  _survive._  That was the name of the game. Jacob could feel the creeping sensation snaking its way up his back as the danger of the situation bore down on him.   
  
Jacob would lose the game.  
  
_And if you lose ... well, you lose._  
  
An ominous shadow fell over him…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next:** April 11 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	56. A Single Man Tear

A yelp passed Jacob’s lips and he tried to run faster. Displaced air was tousling his hair from behind like death itself breathing down his neck. Jacob knew that any second now, the boot would land on him and finish the job. Jacob's spine would be crushed together like a gruesome telescope, and his limbs would be reduced to nothing. His insides would be reduced to paste as his organs were obliterated.  
  
He would break so fast he wouldn't even feel it. Any second now, Jacob would simply cease to exist, because he was so small that his best friend thought he was a bug.  
  
Something huge and immovable slammed into the carpet in front of him. He was running too fast to slow down or dash around it in time. His cry of alarm cut short when he smacked into it at his top sprinting speed. Bruised ribs erupted in fiery pain that clouded Jacob's mind even more. He bounced off the thing and stumbled backwards, falling flat on his back.  
  
There was no time. Jacob forced himself to get back to his feet. His heart pounded in his ears and his lungs drew in ragged breaths. He needed to run. Needed to get around the high wall that had fallen in his path.   
  
Needed to  _escape._  
  


* * *

  
Dean's pulse calmed down with the spider taken care of. He almost went to lift his boot away, but frowned as he realized there was something else down on the ground, close to where his boot had landed.  
  
He squinted, leaning over so he could see the dark blot better. His hands braced on his knees for balance as he peered intently at the dark carpeting.  
  
The frown faded from Dean's face. "Jacob?" he called out hesitantly as the tiny form scrambled to its feet and darted away from his boot. No bug moved like that, only two small legs sprinting desperately away. "Is that you?"  
  
It was like Jacob never even heard him. He continued his blind dash away from Dean, running away in a panicked sprint. Dean's mouth was dry as he tried again. "Jacob, it's okay, it's  _me_. It's Dean. The spider's gone."  
  
There was no response and Dean started to realize that Jacob wasn't just running from the spider anymore. He was running from  _Dean_. If Dean's foot had landed two inches to the side, he wouldn't be trying to get Jacob's attention right now. He wouldn't even know Jacob had ever been down there. The kid would have been crushed, nothing left of him, blending into the treads of Dean's boots just like the spider. Something to wipe off and forget.  
  
"Crap, Jacob, I'm  _sorry,_ " he hissed, wishing his words could make it through. Wishing that he could take back what he'd just done, almost stepping on Jacob.   
  
His best friend.  
  
With nothing working, and Jacob trying to vanish into the darkness where he could be lost forever, Dean knew he had to stop him. Keep him out in the open until he could be talked out of his panic.  
  
Dean knelt down, shifting both boots behind him. A hand was lightly dropped in front of Jacob, blocking off the dresser from the other hunter. "C'mon, Jacob. Let me help you," Dean said. Unless Jacob let him, there was no safe way to grab him off the floor. It would be too easy to crush him by accident. Dean shuddered at the thought, knowing how close he'd come a bare minute ago to consigning Jacob to that fate.  
  
"You need to let me help you. I can't do this on my own."  
  
Jacob didn’t stop running.  
  
“Dammit,” Dean hissed as the tiny figure crashed into his hand at full tilt. It was like he’d never heard a word Dean said. He needed a way to break Jacob out of this panic, he needed to get through to him…  
  
Until then, Jacob was still trying to get around his hand and reach the menacing darkness of the dresser. A place that could host more creatures like the spider. Dean needed to  _keep him out_. He needed to protect Jacob, from himself this time. And from Dean, as hard as that was to admit.  
  
He shifted his hand and curled the fingers around to keep Jacob from slipping past his hand. Then, he moved, flattening himself on his stomach. Like this, he could reach his other hand out and block off the rest of the world from Jacob’s sight. The hands closed around the miniscule figure, sealing him out of sight, but also sealing the rest of the world away from him. He was in a dark room, safe from being grabbed or stepped on or attacked.   
  
“Jacob, it’s me. It’s  _Dean,_ ” he pleaded, praying he could get through the haze of terror he’d just barely glimpsed on that tiny face before sealing him away.  
  


* * *

  
For Jacob, realization came and went that the moving wall stretching over his head was a hand. An enormous hand was blocking his escape with thick, impassable fingers. He backed away from them as they angled around and blocked his path. Before he knew it, another hand hedged him in, tilting towards him at a threatening angle as both sides closed in.  
  
 _They'll crush me!_  
  
Jacob whirled around. There was only a glimpse of the arms attached to those massive hands or the enormous face looming close. Before he could take in the surroundings outside his cage of flesh, the two sides of the hands were sealing closed. He barely dashed two steps before the giant hands closed completely over him, shutting him out from the light and the world. There was a clap as the hands impacted, sealing off every light and every crack that he could have used to escape.   
  
Jacob was trapped under a dome made of giant, crushing hands. Nothing he could do would get him out of this one.  
  
 _If you lose…_  
  
That was all he could think about as his imminent death hung directly overhead, close enough that he could reach up a hand to push on the thick skin that had no give to it.   
  
That  _never_  had any give to it. That might not even feel him as he died. He would barely leave a mark.  
  
"No!" he cried, rushing to the sides of his prison in the dark. This time, he tried to barrel against those unforgiving fingers, trying to shove one out of his way. His mind refused to accept his helplessness, desperately trying to come up with a solution before one of the hands crushed him. He wouldn't die like a human, he'd die like a bug. An ant to be squashed and forgotten by the same person that had taken away his life.   
  
His ribs screamed in pain and his lungs were ragged from all the rapid breathing. The next time he shoved, his fingers sank into giant fingerprints, finding purchase inside thick ridges that he shouldn't be able to see, nevermind hold. He refused to give up. No matter how useless it was, no matter if his life was a lost cause, he was driven to try.   
  
The pounding of his heart in his ears was louder than anything he'd ever heard. Louder even than the pulse that surged at a slow, ominous tempo through the unyielding skin he was trying to move, louder than the thunder that boomed from outside. The sound of that giant voice rattled completely around him, shaking his very skeleton. The words wouldn't parse in his head. They might as well be the immense growls of a predator about to claim his life. Jacob was sure they’d be the last sounds he ever heard.  
  
There had to be a way to escape. There had to be a way to  _survive_. There had to be a way out from under the angry, crushing hands. Dean had to be tricked again, just like before. Making him think he had another bug or a spider trapped under his hand. Making him want to  _crush the life_  out of it for daring be a threat near his smaller friends.  
  
Making Dean turn on his best friend.  
  
The inevitability started to set in as his ribs burned and yet he still tried to shove against the unyielding wall. Jacob was going to die. He was going to die a smear of nothingness at the hand of his mentor. Tears sprang to his eyes as he kept pushing against Dean's fingers, trying so desperately to get past them.  
  
So desperate to escape no matter how impossible it was.  
  


* * *

  
Intent on his hands, Dean heard a small voice cry out in fright. The tiny spark of fear in it sent a bolt through his heart. “No, Jacob, you’re safe,” he begged, trying to break through. “I won’t hurt you, I’d _never_  want to hurt you.”  
  
He gasped when he felt miniscule hands pushing against his skin. For the first time, he could  _feel_  the tiny attempts to push his hand out of the way. Not once since Jacob had shrank the second time had he been able to feel that, not a single time. Not even when he was watching the small hunter walk onto his hand, tumbling down from a misstep. The panic and the  _weird_  of the case had kept him too distracted.  
  
Now, focusing on Jacob and his terror and nothing else, Dean finally got it. He understood.  
  
He blinked back tears. He was helpless to stop the emotions that welled up in him as he felt his best friend struggling for his life. Against  _him_.  
  
Words came to mind and they spilled out of his lips. "Jacob,” he started, his throat trying to close up on him. He cleared it and started over. “Jacob, I don't know if you can hear me, and hell. I don't know if you’d even care if you could, but you need to know.  _I_  need you to know. You're safe now. I can see you, and I'm not gonna let you vanish on me again."  
  
Dean closed his eyes, trying to keep himself together. The feel of those tiny, fruitless struggles had his full attention, and he wanted nothing more than to have that trust back again. He’d lost that trust, he didn’t  _deserve_  that trust, and he might never deserve it again.   
  
Even if that was true, he needed to do right by Jacob and get him to safety. He was the only person who could.  
  
Dean started to talk again, each word halting and measured as he went. "Everything's scary right now, including me. I know that, and I'm sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t realize that I could scare you so much. I didn’t know how afraid you were and I should have. I should have seen it sooner but I let myself be blinded by your reassurances. But no matter what, no matter how scary things get, you'll always have me. It took me a while to realize how different I need to act, but now that I do, you're safe with me. I promise. No more screw ups, no more being an asshat. I won't let you slip through my fingers like Sam did all those years ago."  
  
The sight of his hands sealed shut was a testament to these words, walling Jacob off with an unbreachable enclosure. A tear slipped down Dean’s cheek unnoticed. As useful as it was right now, he'd never wanted the power to trap his friend like that, completely and irrevocably.   
  
Dean had absolute power over all his friends, and he needed to prove, again and again, that he deserved their trust.  
  
"Having you around this last year... it's like me an' Sam both have a little brother to watch out for. You're  _family,_  and that's all that matters. Whether you're 6'5" or shorter than Sammy, you'll always be one of us."  
  
Dean took a deep breath, then realized he couldn’t feel anything pushing against his hands. Hesitantly, almost afraid of what he’d find in there, he cracked them open just enough to lean in and peek. He blinked, adjusting to the darkness.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob heard every word. His mind, in pure panic,wouldn't let him stop to consider them. The words rumbled around him, like booming echoes of some conversation he wasn't a part of. The only thing at the fore of his mind was terror.  
  
Even with all of that fear clamoring in his head, Jacob had a breaking point. His body was exhausted. His mind was exhausted. Some of his tears raced down his cheeks and he gave up on pushing the hand out of the way, and staggered back from it.   
  
He collapsed.   
  
When light stretched towards him from the small opening Dean made in his hands, Jacob didn't notice it.  
  
Jacob huddled over, curled up into as tiny of a ball as he could make himself. Considering the size he started with, he was very tiny indeed. His arms were guarding his head, shaking hands pressed over the back of his neck. His entire body was quivering with adrenaline that couldn't be stopped and couldn't be put to use. Even if the adrenaline gave him energy and strength, he was completely helpless in the prison Dean had placed around him.  
  
Breath with the force of a minor wind rushed into his prison, following the splinter of light now shining in. Jacob's hair and hood were agitated by it. He became aware that there was an opening where there were none before, but he still didn't look up.  
  
Jacob was overwhelmed by the world around him. Maybe he'd brushed it off countless times to maintain his chill demeanor, but now, Jacob was  _afraid._  
  
 _You'll always be one of us._  
  
The thought sliced through the outer layer of fear and Jacob almost flinched from it. Had he really heard that? Was his mind playing tricks on him? Jacob desperately tried to put together the jigsaw puzzle that his memories of the last few minutes had become. Dean's voice, thundering all around him, had really said that. Jacob's breath hitched as more of it came back to him.  
  
 _You're family.  
  
It's like we have a little brother to watch out for._  
  
Dean Winchester, to whom family was more important than anything, had said that to Jacob.   
  
Jacob, who barely a year ago had appeared out of the blue, introducing himself with a knock on the door and the surprise information that Dean's baby brother was still alive. Who'd tracked the man down just to put his family back together again after bad luck and a witch's curse had torn it to pieces.  
  
Dean, whose entire family was made up of one  _very_  small brother and an absent father who'd abandoned his only son to fend for himself. A man who'd dedicated his entire torn-up life to helping others and had been rewarded at last when his family was reunited after over ten years of being alone.  
  
Because of _Jacob._  
  
And now Jacob had just been told that he was a part of that family too.  
  
 _Brothers._  
  
With some effort, he unclasped his hands. They remained near his head as cautious shields as he lifted it. Jacob saw a beam of light making its way in to him. Beyond the opening in his confinement, he could see one green eye peering in at him, the sides crinkled in concern.   
  
 _Dean. It's just Dean._  
  
Jacob's hands were still shaking as he remained huddled there, shock on his face as he tried to look through the panic and desperation of his last few moments, and tried to piece together everything that had just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels. Nothing but feels over here. 
> 
> **Next:** April 15 th 2018 at 9pm.
> 
> Things have been a little slow, so I’m looking for some feedback!
> 
> What would everyone like to see happen on the tumblr page? We’ve had excerpts and a few asks going, is there anything else people would like?
> 
> Feel free to answer here--> <https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/WJDNC8L>
> 
> The survey is anonymous.


	57. A Brother Found

The green eye softened when Dean caught sight of Jacob on the ground, curled up into a protective ball with his hands over his head. “Jacob…” he said, his voice barely even a whisper after the emotional outpouring.  
  
One of the hands lifted away, opening up Jacob's prison at last. The protective containment that Dean had been forced to use when there was no other way for him to stop Jacob from escaping. The light of the room fell around the small hunter again, illuminating his bedraggled form in soft light.  
  
With a finger that was almost shaking, Dean lightly touched the small, shuddering back of his best friend. He couldn’t feel Jacob there, but he could see the tiny body, and he made sure to keep his finger from pushing against the fragile form. This was the only thing he could do. For Dean there would be no putting an arm around his shoulders, no friendly pat on the back. Only the barest whisper of contact against a body that was almost too fragile for even that much.  
  
It was heartbreaking to see that his fingertip almost outsized the shuddering body. It hurt to know he could cover Jacob up with such a simple motion. Jacob was supposed to be taller than all of them. Tall enough that if Sam stood on his big brother's head, they would barely reach his height together.  
  
 _I never wanted this..._  
  
“Jacob, I’m sorry,” he repeated again, not sure if Jacob had heard him. “But now that you’re here, I won’t let you go again. You have my word.”  
  
Jacob blinked in the light. It was over. His close brush with almost being stomped out of existence ... was over. Dean's words slammed into him with sincerity. Despite the fear that left him raw and ragged, Jacob believed them. If nothing else, the look on the billboard sized face convinced him. Dean so rarely showed this much emotion, and Jacob had the biggest view of it that anyone had ever seen.  
  
He couldn't find it in him to speak right away. Jacob sat up slowly, marveling that the fingertip at his back didn't hold him down. It moved out of the way in time with his movements. Dean was paying close enough attention for that.  
  
Jacob swallowed dryly and cleared his throat. There was a lump there, wound tight from his terrified breathing and the continuous staccato of his heart. Jacob put a hand over his eyes, squeezing out the last few terrified tears that had pooled there and wiping them away with his fingers and thumb. He was able to take deep breaths now. Cool, refreshing air filled his miniscule lungs instead of the fiery, sharp air of panic that he'd known for the past several minutes.  
  
He was found, and he had a promise that he'd stay that way.  
  
Jacob dragged his hand down his harrowed face, revealing his eyes once more. He glanced around, noticing the wall of a hand that still rested firmly behind him, protecting him from the dark corners of the world that lay just out of sight. Jacob counted himself lucky that Dean had been quick enough to stop him from running too far. He could have found another spider or dove into the walls only to get hopelessly lost. He couldn't survive that a second time.  
  
A laugh, of all things, found its way out of him. It was quiet, and tired, and a little strained, but it was still a laugh. The relief was too great not to let it out. He had to wipe away another pool of tears from his eye with the heel of his hand.  
  
Knowing he was going to be okay, Jacob tried to gather more of his thoughts. What had he been doing before the terror struck? He winced and tried to get to his feet, only to stagger forward and land on his hands and knees. He let out a huff of a sigh like he'd been kicked in the stomach. Everything in Jacob wanted him to just lie down right then and there to sleep. His arms wobbled as they held him up.  
  
"Dean, the others," Jacob managed to choke out. "Some-- some asshole broke in..."  
  
The small voice made it to Dean's ears. He listened intently, blinking away the tears that were hidden in his eyes. It all made sense now. If someone had broken into the room, it explained why Sam and Bowman were gone... the first thing they would have done would be get Jacob out of sight. It explained the absence of Jacob's wallet, too. Something small like that would be easy to snatch up. It was a wonder the laptop hadn't been touched.  
  
He forced his lips into a smile. "Don't worry, we'll get them back," he reassured Jacob. "Trust me, whoever took them is going to regret it. But first... Jacob, I understand if you don't want anything to do with me anymore. We need to get you off the floor though, back on the table where it's safe. I promise..." His voice closed up and his eyes scrunched closed. His hand moved away from the small form of its own accord. "I won't let anything happen to you. I just want you to be safe, okay?"  
  
The green eyes opened up, Jacob their sole focus as they pleaded for his trust. They were still wet at the edges, showing how overcome he was with emotion. A person who tried to never show his feelings and did his best to hide them with jokes and smartass comments, and now he was wearing them out on his sleeve for everyone to see, though the only eyes that saw were barely bigger than pin pricks.  
  
Dean held out his hand again, flattening it against the ground close to Jacob. "You can tell me everything you saw,  _after_  you're back up on the table."  
  
Jacob didn't need to be told twice. Dean's other remarks made him purse his lips, wanting to protest, but the suggestion to get off the floor was too appealing. After everything he'd just been through on the floor, Jacob wanted to get off of it as soon as possible.  
  
And maybe, at the same time, he'd also convince Dean that he was wrong about Jacob not wanting anything to do with him. His  _boots_  were another story, and Jacob would be avoiding any giant dishes, but Dean was his friend...  _brother_  echoed in his mind... regardless of some asshat trying to turn him into a titanic enemy.  
  
Jacob pushed himself to his feet, managing to keep his balance this time. He staggered towards the hand laid out for him. Climbing onto Dean's hand had always been an adventure, because of the alarming disparity in their sizes, and now Jacob didn't even have a buffer of someone only four inches tall to help him up. It was just him and Dean, the living skyscraper.  
  
Jacob made things easier on himself by starting at Dean's pinky, the lowest point for him to climb up. Even that was more than just a step up for his miniscule legs. He braced his hands against it to hoist himself up, groaning at the angry pain that flared up in his bruised everything. Since that wasn't new to him lately, Jacob weathered it to scramble up onto Dean's hand with some difficulty.  
  
Dean watched with bated breath, and frowned at what he saw. Jacob struggled,  _painfully,_  to get on his hand. He wanted nothing more than to offer help, but what could he do? His fingers were too thick. Jacob was having trouble on the smallest one. The only method that might work would be trying to boost Jacob up with a fingernail, but even that would be difficult since Dean's nails were short. Years of using his hands meant they never grew out.  
  
The surface still had no give. Jacob was too light. It was leathery and he could feel every ridge in the skin, and it radiated heat. Jacob hadn't realized how cold it could get in the open air of the motel room, even with his hoodie on.  
  
After everything, Dean refused to rush him, but before Jacob knew it, he'd flopped over on Dean's palm. His body was just so tired. His arms and legs burned from his constant sprinting, and they gave up on propping him up. He closed his eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths. Safe. He was safe again. He was lying on a titan's hand, but he trusted that titan with his care.  
  
Dean could barely make out a phantom touch of Jacob's weight. Like the lightest feather was trying to tickle him. It wasn't much, but it was there. _Jacob_  was there. A small smile came to his face at the sight of the little guy flopped onto his hand.  
  
"You're okay now," Dean said. "I gotcha. This will all be over soon."  
  
With that said, he brought both hands together, bowling his palm so there was a divot of flesh around Jacob to keep him from any chance of falling. With the other hand cupped around that one, he went to a stand, slowly and carefully. His eyes remained trained on Jacob constantly, making sure he was alright.  
  
After all this time, now that Sam was gone, Dean realized how much they'd relied on Sam and Bowman to soften the scale between Jacob and himself. Normally the two largest guys, now separated in size by a nearly unsurpassable amount. Dean would have to keep himself on edge constantly. They couldn't afford any mistakes.  
  
"Nice and easy," Dean said out loud for Jacob's benefit as he started to walk. "We can take this as slow as you need." Those words rang in his head from the first time he'd seen Jacob standing only four inches tall, reassuring his friend that nothing had changed because I'd his size.  
  
 _We can take this as slow as you want, kid. You know I've got steady hands._  
  
It was like a taunt in his own head now. He could handle Sam's four inch size without a problem, but the moment Jacob had lost even more height they should have realized Dean was his biggest danger. They'd failed him then, and Dean refused to fail him again. He needed to get things right from now on.  
  
He owed Jacob too much to let him down.  
  
Reaching the table, Dean brought his hand over to the laptop. He flattened his hand so that the step to the laptop would give Jacob a level surface to climb to and he wouldn't need to strain his injured limbs any more. "We made it," he said quietly, unable to see if Jacob's eyes were opened or closed. "It's the end of the line for this ride." The joke was equally hushed.  
  
The slow movements and steady reassuring voice were more welcome than Jacob ever could have realized. He remembered Bowman griping at him once, way back when he first returned to Wellwood to visit the sprites. He'd let Bowman on his hand and lifted him too fast. Bowman nearly bopped him right then and there in his annoyance.  
  
Since being shrunk, Jacob had noticed exactly what the sprite meant. Being lifted too fast was disorienting and unsettling. He had to work hard just to hold his body up on his own feet. To have someone be able to bodily lift him into the air ... it had been drilling perspective into him from the start.  
  
Now, a ride that had felt like a rocket taking off felt more like an elevator in a hurry. Jacob felt gravity gently pushing him into the palm and the wind breezing past him, but his organs didn't panic over the fast motions. Dean was being more careful, right until his hand was no longer in motion.  
  
Jacob pushed himself up sluggishly. He was almost reluctant to leave the warmth of the hand, but seeing the laptop he decided he could live with it. The machine gave off its own heat. He got to his feet. They still dragged with each step, but when he got to the edge of the laptop, he didn't need to hoist himself up onto it.  
  
Jacob trudged close to the trackpad before settling down again. His legs were stretched out in front of him, but after feeling a twinge in his shoulders, Jacob opted against propping himself up on his hands. Instead, he gave Dean a thumbs-up, held high over his head so the gigantic hunter could see it.  
  
"Excellent work, captain. No casualties here," he quipped, mixing references to play along with Dean's light banter. "Thanks for the lift, I left my jetpack in my other jacket."  
  
Dean smiled at the comeback, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He leaned down so he was closer to Jacob, eyes briefly flashing over the small hunter's body and taking note of the pained grimace on Jacob's face. It hurt to see his best friend in such bad shape, and most of it  _because_  of Dean. "Next time, we'll make sure to grab that jacket for ya before we head out."  
  
Dean went to push himself up and paused. "Jacob, I need to run to the bathroom and grab something to clean Sam's knife with. Please... don't move." His voice was pleading, desperate to not lose his best friend in the room again. Neither of them could take another 'adventure' like that. All that time, Jacob had been down on the floor... that spider could have grabbed him before Dean reached the dresser. One false move could have wiped Jacob from existence and he never would have known. "I need you to stay here." His eyes didn't move from Jacob. "Please."  
  
Dean's gaze was just as intense as ever, but now it was full of an emotion Jacob didn't often see. A breeze of warm air brushed past him with Dean's pleading words. There was no looking away from the begging in those eyes.   
  
Dean was desperate.  
  
Jacob held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not going anywhere, man. Done walking for a good while, anyway, so I'll just chill here." His voice took on a reassuring tone, with a faint smile coloring it. The last thing Jacob wanted to do was put himself out of Dean's awareness. It took everything in him just to get Dean's attention in the first place.  
  
Not having that awareness had nearly gotten Jacob killed. Casual motions became deadly obstacles to Jacob, but that wasn't Dean's fault. The man was standing there beating himself up over something he couldn't even help. Something neither of them could help.  
  
It was no one's fault.  
  
  
Dean nodded. "I'll be right back then," he said, standing straight up. It was just as hard watching how, in just a few short feet, Jacob's face receded so there wasn't a chance of knowing his expression.  
  
Even as Dean went to turn away, it was hard to tear his eyes off of Jacob. It felt like if he took his eyes away for a single second, Jacob would vanish into thin air. Dean would be alone, forever. No way to find his brother and Bowman, no idea what had happened to Jacob... just gone, leaving Dean to suffer because he was so different from the others.  
  
The trip to the bathroom was as fast as he could make it. He ran the faucet, soaking a portion of his handkerchief so he'd be able to clean the dried blood off of Sam's blade. It was the only knife that would ever be sized for Sam, and he couldn't risk it getting ruined.  
  
Dean paused to splash water on his face, trying to clear his eyes out so he could focus. All the stress and exhaustion almost felt caked to him like the dried tears that had never fallen. Then it was time for the most unnerving part. He grabbed a few squares of toilet paper, wetting them and then wiping off the spider crushed against his boot. Such a simple motion was far harder after the realization that Jacob had almost joined the spider there. A few inches to the side...  
  
Dean pushed that out of his mind, coming back out to the laptop. He smiled to see that Jacob hadn't moved at all. It took him a minute to be able to pinch the tiny knife off of the table, but Dean persevered. He held it carefully, leaning his arms on the table to start wiping off the bloodied blade.  
  
Focusing back on Jacob while he worked, he asked "So how did this all happen?" He blinked a few times, forcing away his emotions. "Who took my brother and Bowman, and how did you end up on the  _floor?_  "  
  
Jacob opened his mouth to begin the explanation.He felt his face heat up, and it wasn't from the warm laptop humming away beneath him. He remembered Dean going straight to the nightstand to search, after Jacob had made it all the way to the other side of the room in his foolish attempt to be noticed.  
  
He knew better now, of course. Hindsight was 20/20.  
  
"I was on the floor because Bowman had to hide me," he answered, glossing over his trek for the time being. "We were all just sitting around... I guess spacing off a little. Bowman was in the sun and Sam was doing research and I was watching."  _What else can I do?_  The disparaging thought flickered across his mind, threatening to derail him with discouragement.  
  
"Some guy picked the lock I guess. I think he came in looking for shit to pawn, just one of those types, but he saw us here. Sam distracted him with his knife while Bowman hid me." Jacob remembered Sam yelling, remembered the man snarling in annoyance, despite the dizzying flight at the time. And he remembered the terrified look in Bowman's eyes as he stood up after setting Jacob down.  
  
Like he knew.  
  
Like he knew that the minute he flew back over to the human, he'd be taken too. But, like that sprite always did, he tried anyway. "Bowman tried to help Sam, I think. I couldn't see. He got caught trying to get Sam back. And then the guy looked around for me, and then he took off. Probably worried you'd be back while he was still snooping." Jacob was glad the man hadn't searched thoroughly enough. He'd practically held his breath while the burglar checked around the nightstand, but Jacob was small enough to easily hide under Sam's desk and not be found.  
  
He had to hide, knowing his friends were trapped with that thief while he could do nothing. At his normal height, Jacob could knock that guy out with one punch. He wouldn't even put up any resistance. At this size, Jacob was utterly useless.  
  
Dean meticulously cleaned the tiny blade while Jacob talked, his brow furrowed in concentration both from how hard he had to listen to Jacob and how careful he had to be with Sam’s knife. One wrong move would bend the metal. When he’d made it, it had been a thick, powerful blade that he’d given Sam for protection.  
  
Now, a twentieth the size it had started at, it still cut viciously, and it served the smaller hunter well, but it was nowhere near as durable as the weapons that Dean packed on a daily basis, and so each careful sweep with the handkerchief was made with care and respect for that delicacy. The silver gleamed through again even as Jacob tapered off.  
  
When the story was finished, Dean gently set the knife down on the edge of the laptop to keep it in sight, aiming to focus on Jacob completely. “So, Sam got caught trying to help you and Bowman got caught helping Sam.” He pursed his lips, considering their options. There weren’t many. The thought of Sam struggling in some stranger’s hands put a spark of anger in his chest, but he repressed it, refusing to scare Jacob with an errant glare.  
  
“Y’know, a lot of these motels like this have surveillance,” he thought out loud. “Sam’s been teaching me a few tricks on the computer that he’s picked up while I’m out. I might actually be able to hack in if they set up their security system on the wifi signal they have here. As piss poor as it is.” He grimaced at the memory of the webpage he was on freezing up more than once. He went to reach for the computer, then paused. “You mind if I check things out while you chill? You’re not in the way there, and if I can get in, I’ll need you to point out the thief.”  
  
Jacob perked up in surprise. His last few times seated on the laptop, Sam had been the one using it. He'd almost gotten used to that, even though the machine was made to be used by someone Dean's size.  
  
If he stayed where he was, seated between the trackpad and the space bar, Jacob would be walled in by two arms thicker than a house was tall by his scale. He'd be trapped, though Jacob had to remind himself that he was trapped in a hundred different ways already, just by being as small as he was. One more boundary around him wouldn't make that much of a difference, because he didn't want to go running off anyway.  
  
After Dean's heartfelt words earlier, Jacob knew that he was safe with him.  _Like a little brother._  After seeing how careful Dean was with Sam, even when they were joking around, Jacob knew he didn't have to worry. All it would take was a word, and Dean would move out of the way for him.  
  
Jacob slowly stretched his arms over his head and then shrugged. "Yeah, dude, go right ahead. I'll chill right here, you'd have to fight me to get me to move." He grinned tiredly along with his quip before turning himself around so he could watch the screen. He felt the enormous presence of those hands before he saw them move forward in his peripheral vision, the heat that radiated off them slowly encircling the tiny hunter. Fingertips settled on keys Jacob wasn't even strong enough to press. "Alright, get us in, double-oh-seven." Jacob drew his knees up so he could casually rest his arms on them while he watched the cinema-sized computer screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU callout for Brothers Found!
> 
> **Next:** April 18 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	58. The Trickster Unmasked

Dean laughed at that. "I don't know if I'm quite Bond-level, but one of these days we'll have to see if there's anything out there that Sam can't hack. Who's going to arrest a guy four inches tall? Kid could be a world class spy if we get him the right equipment. Bond's got nothin' on him."  
  
He started on the computer, swiping carefully on the trackpad with Jacob sitting only a few inches away. It wasn't hard to find the secured network that the motel kept hidden underneath the public one that offered free wifi to the patrons within. Once there, he needed a way to crack the password and slip his computer in.  
  
That was where Sam's tricks came into play. He'd been bored and discovered that there were websites that could actually be used to streamline stealing passwords. Dean had been forced to change his password on the computer to something entirely unrecognizable from a word the moment that had been discovered, and now the younger Winchester kept their equipment on strict rotating algorithms that he'd occasionally quiz Dean on when he was bored. Dean had even found Sam absently tapping out their latest password in Morse Code one day when he was stuck in a pocket for several interviews.  
  
The website started to run through words at random, shooting across the screen as they went. With any luck, they'd be able to get in fast. Otherwise, there were a lot of words in the dictionary that the website would use in its attack.  
  
Dean leaned back with a smirk. "Impressed yet, half-pint?" he asked smugly.  
  
Jacob watched the words flicker across the screen for a few seconds before acknowledging Dean's prodding. He couldn't help but notice that the letters were  _huge_ compared to him. At least a third his height. A somewhat large, flashy font had become letters the size of wall posters for Jacob. A few days ago, before he'd endured everything that he had, he might have thought that was kind of cool. Now, it was just a reminder of how little he was in a world meant for bigger people.  
  
He looked over his shoulder, quirking an eyebrow, to answer. If he didn't angle his voice towards Dean, the titan might have trouble hearing it. "Oh yes, I'm amazed," he assured Dean with a sarcastic smirk.  
  
It didn't escape his notice that Dean had called him by a nickname. It hadn't happened often since he was reduced in size, thanks to all the heavy nerves that clung to the situation. It was like something had clicked into place. Dean was starting to feel safe around Jacob, same as the reverse.  
  
Jacob wondered if that was part of the lesson Dean was supposed to learn. The thought brought something back to him and he turned around more to face Dean more clearly. "Hey, you said something about Bobby calling? He figure out who my so-called teacher is?"  
  
Dean arched his eyebrows. The discovery of Sam and Bowman's absence, coupled with everything that had happened with Jacob afterwards, had pushed it right out of his mind.  
  
The end might be in sight after all this time running around and chasing their tails - and Jacob - from one end of town to the other. "Uh, yeah. I got a call when I got to the store. It..." he gave a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "It actually held me up for a few minutes while he filled me in. I didn't even think something like this would happen while I was out..." For a moment, sheepish guilt washed over him.  
  
"The thing that's causin' so much trouble around here is a trickster. They cause chaos and mischief wherever they go and..." Dean grimaced. "Bobby says they like to target the 'high and mighty.' Usually with a sense of humor. Looks like whatever trickster we got here is covering up his fun with his so-called 'lessons,' whatever  _they_ are. I'd say he's getting his kicks out of making one of the tallest guys around one of the smallest. Kinda like just desserts, in the trickster's mind."  
  
Dean watched the computer screen move through the passwords in its unending attack. "He said they have a real sweet tooth. So, if we see anyone lurking around that seems out of place, that's one way to ID them. Check for," he smirked, "a stash of candy."  
  
Jacob's shoulders tensed and his hands curled into fists when the phantom  _crack_  of a lollipop bigger than him breaking between gigantic teeth echoed in his memory. Even though he'd only met the guy in dreams, his 'trickster' was so easy to picture. Jacob's stomach churned as he remembered dangling by nothing more than his hoodie while that stupid candy was crunched away into nothing. The sound might never fade with time.  
  
"That sounds like the guy, actually. Summoned himself some candy while he visited me the first time." That was the only elaboration Jacob would give. He'd never reveal how helpless it felt to know he was dreaming and still fear so much for his life.  
  
His shoulders slumped as he thought about the explanation. That he was this dangerously small just because he was normally really tall. His size was something over which he had no control. Using that against him felt cheap.  
  
Then again, Jacob had used his size to outrageously unfair advantage against Sam, and against Bowman. The memory of trapping them both, and  _injuring_  Sam during that first encounter, rose up to torment him. Once again, the creeping thought that he'd earned this sank its teeth into him and wouldn't let go. Every single advantage that he normally had was gone. He was learning firsthand how easy it was to lose control of his own life, to face situations that would swallow him whole and overwhelm him with fear and helplessness.  
  
Because he'd made someone else feel that way.  
  
"Alright, so, if we take care of this trickster ... do I go back to normal?"  
  
Dean snapped a finger, and didn’t notice Jacob’s shoulders tensing up from the sound. "Just like that. The magic they use won't outlive them. It should fade away as soon as we gank the asshat doing this to you. Since he won't change you back of his own free will... we'll have to take things into our own hands."  
  
He gave a little laugh. "Of course, we have to track down whatever poor sap he's impersonating around here. Bobby said they like to watch their spells work, so he shouldn't be holed up too far from us. Then, stake of wood to the heart and we gank ourselves a trickster."  
  
The computer dinged innocently, the green message of success lighting up at him. Dean let himself smile. "I think things might finally start to go our way," he said. He reached back onto the keyboard, keeping away from the small person sitting near the spacebar. "C'mon," he muttered to himself.  
  
It only took a few more screens to get into the security network. Just like Sam had told him, once that first layer of security was broken, they could slip right in. Dean wanted to find his pocket ace as soon as possible and get Sam back where he belonged, perched on Dean or Jacob's shoulder the way he liked.  
  
He smiled at the memory of Sam giving him a kick square in his neck. It had taken a few months, but once Sam was used to being around Dean or Jacob, he didn't have a problem telling them off.  
  
And of course, Bowman never had a problem telling  _anyone_  off right from the start.  
  
Dean loaded up the footage. "Okay, this should be the view into the parking lot from near our room. None of the doors can be seen, but the thief should come into view at some point, either coming or going. Let me know if you see him."  
  
Jacob turned his focus on the screen. The nondescript parking lot lay before him in near life-size on the screen. The grey image was almost like a picture. Only the occasional car pulling up or leaving indicated otherwise.  
  
Jacob kept glancing at the time in the bottom corner. The thief had to show up sometime. Jacob narrowed his eyes at a car that pulled into one of the farthest spots in the shade of a tree that was practically poofy with leaves. Bowman would love the sight of that tree, but Jacob narrowed his eyes at the man who stepped out of the car.  
  
"I think ..." he began, watching the man walk casually across the lot towards the doors of the motel. The man disappeared off screen while Jacob was still mulling it over. He glanced at the clock again, trying to count how long the burglar had been in the room. It was impossible to tell; it felt like it had been over in an instant.  
  
Several minutes later, the man reappeared. This time he was walking faster, and a dark shape hung at his side that hadn’t been visible before. "That's the guy," Jacob blurted, all doubt erased. That shape had to be the bag the man had stuffed his friends into. Jacob leaned forward to point at the man for emphasis, one hand propped on the space bar without realizing it. He didn't even budge the wide key.  
  
Dean leaned overhead, peering intently at the screen. His heart sank at the sight of occasional struggles that they could see from that dark blob by the man's side.  _Sam's in there._  Dean's hand twitched at the desire to grab his brother back. "That sonovabitch is going to pay for taking them," he growled.  
  
Sitting back, Dean gave Jacob space as he backed the security footage up, searching the screen for that same man until he had a shot of the guy facing the camera. "Got'm," he proclaimed.  
  
It only took a moment before he had an image of the man's face in front of him. The quality of the picture was cleared up soon enough, and a burly, bearded man was staring out at them. Dean's eyes narrowed, taking stock of the bastard that had stolen his brother. If Dean had been around, he would have been able to take care of the guy without a problem. Sam and Bowman, with Jacob to watch out for... they had enough trouble with  _kids_ , never mind a full-sized, full-grown man.  
  
It brought to mind his training sessions with Sam. The smaller hunter did very well during training. He was fast, he was nimble, he was hard to get ahold of. But the moment Dean's hands closed around his brother, it was over. Sam had no way to get out. With Dean, it was no big deal. All Sam would get was endless teasing.  
  
With any other human, like this shady stranger... it was a whole different story.  
  
He sighed and pushed that out of his mind. Next, he zoomed in to the license plate on the car. A smile grew on his face, turning into a full-fledged smirk. "Should've blacked out his plates before he decided to start breaking into motel rooms," Dean said with a dark laugh. From there, he could get an address, no problem.  
  
"Dumbass," Jacob agreed with a sleepy grin. While Dean copied the license plate and navigated to a page where he could track it, Jacob shifted where he sat. He lay down slowly on his back, his head still angled towards the screen as Dean worked. The computer was so huge that Jacob never risked missing much; the internet browser might as well be the horizon.  
  
Exhaustion settled over him like a blanket while warmth radiated up from the computer below. Jacob had been through far too much for one person in the last several days. It was hard to truly get any rest when everything loomed overhead and every shadow promised some kind of threat. In plain view of Dean and surrounded by protective hands ... Jacob felt a little safer. Everything still loomed and the shadows still threatened. but at least he knew he didn't need to be afraid of Dean.  
  
The exhaustion combined with his sense of momentary safety and Jacob fell asleep right there on the laptop, heavy eyelids fluttering closed. His hands rested idly on his stomach until he rolled over on his side in his slumber.  
  
Dean caught sight of the movement down below. A warm smile appeared on his face at the sight of Jacob curling up to sleep. He certainly deserved the rest, after what he'd been through. Dean would make damn certain that nothing happened to him on the laptop. Seeing that Jacob was trusting him like that so freely, Dean felt the weight of his responsibility settle over his shoulders.  
  
 _Family..._  
  
The word echoed through his head as he worked his way through the site on the computer. Jacob was family, as much as Walt and Mallory had become, and Dean would do anything for him. A little brother that looked up to Sammy, keeping a smile on the smallest Winchester's face as they talked. Sam had practically adopted Jacob before they'd ever found Dean, and nothing could come between the friends. Sam was always excited when Jacob came to visit, and loved hanging out on a shoulder.   
  
Jacob was so laid back, Sam would get him to go along with his crazy plans, like hiding Dean's keys. The laughter had given that one away; Sam had almost doubled over when Dean caught Jacob red handed. With the betrayal on Jacob's face, it hadn't been hard to figure out who'd set him up.  
  
The search dinged at him, indicating a match. Dean found himself yawning as a lazy hand reached out and clicked the information on the screen. Even as the address of their thief scrolled across the screen, Dean was resting his head on the arm next to the computer.  
  
In moments, sleep claimed him as well. His exhausted breaths tousled Jacob's hair from so close, but with them both out cold there was no one left to complain.  
  


[Artwork by mogadeer!](https://mogadeer.deviantart.com/art/com-Laptop-nap-558526064)

* * *

  
Jacob succumbed to deeper sleep quickly. Sooner than he'd have expected, he dropped into a deep enough sleep to start dreaming. At first, the images were constantly shifting, a kaleidoscope of his day so far. An hour passed, then two before the dreams solidified into something familiar.  
  
The carpet, dark fibers worn from years of traffic on them, stretched out around him in all directions. The dresser loomed a few feet to one side, like an impossibly huge building suspended over a forest of dustbunnies and spiderwebs. To the other side, an even bigger bed shadowed much of the plain of carpet fibers. The ceiling was far far above, and everything seemed like it was leaning in close to peer down at him.  
  
Jacob's heart hammered. He thought for sure he was reliving his ordeal down on the floor. Unnoticed and insignificant, nearly crushed multiple times under a boot several times his size. Like a bug. A puny, unimportant little bug that wouldn't even be worth the time to scrape off after he broke beneath the tread.  
  
Ice dropped into his stomach. Jacob took a deep breath, expecting the ground in his dream to rumble with enormous footsteps. He whirled around to face the skyscraper sized door.  
  
And found himself looking at Dean.  
  
 _At his scale._  
  
Dean was there with Jacob, his size projected downwards to match. Jacob could see over the top of his head for the first time in days. Before he could even react to seeing Dean like that, however, Jacob put the pieces together and whirled around, looking for the trickster.  
  
"Fuck, not again!"  
  
Dean gaped at Jacob's back, his tired mind slowly catching up to his surroundings. The looming furniture, the towering dresser that was nearby... they were standing in the middle of the motel room, and he'd never felt so exposed in his life. There were a million places that things could be hiding, staring back at them, ready to hunt the lost humans on the floor.  
  
"Son of a bitch..." was all that he managed to get out of his mouth. It was almost impossible to comprehend the scale of everything.  
  
And Jacob had been living like this for a good portion of the  _week_.  
  
A slow clap came from the side. Dean whirled around, hand automatically going for the gun that was no longer there. A man was standing to the side with an amused grin on his face, slowly applauding his two current victims.  
  
Dean almost snarled in surprise at his first sight of the trickster. "It was you all along?!" he sputtered.  
  
The smarmy man from the gas station winked back at him. "Bingo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next:** April 22 nd 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	59. Sticks and Stones

"You sonova _bitch_ ," Dean growled out, staring at the gas station attendant. The man that he'd almost handed Jacob over to right at the beginning with his change without ever realizing something was wrong. "You've been watching us the entire time."  
  
He stalked closer, and Jacob followed, keeping wary eyes on both of them. He knew at this point that it was useless to take the bait, no matter what the bastard said. Twice now he'd found himself dangling by just his hoodie, all because of a quick move towards the trickster. He doubted Dean wanted to share the experience of being messed with at this size.  
  
Dean was livid. "Is this funny to you? Making me look like the world's biggest asshat? Do you get your  _kicks_  turning people against each other?"  
  
The trickster held up his hands. "Whoa, hey now. Sticks and stones, right? I wasn't the one that tried to pawn off my little protegé with some change. Although," he almost burst out laughing, holding his chest to contain the laughs, "you chuckleheads have to be the  _first_  that have ever made it barely a few hours into the game before you tried to hand off the victim. I mean,  _come on!_  That was too perfect! I shrink Jakey-boy, and then you try to pay with him! Classic move, Dean-O."  
  
The words threw Jacob back a few days and he couldn't help but think back to the misadventure in the Gas ‘n Sip. It had really set the stage for everything that had befallen him since then, and the guy responsible had been  _right there,_  probably barely concealing that fucking smirk while he waited for Jacob to slide onto his waiting hand with the rest of the money.  
  
If Jacob hadn't had Dean's ring to hang onto, what might have happened to him? He had originally feared being trapped in the cash drawer or swatted like a bug by the clueless attendant. And yet, if he'd been handed right over to his tormentor in the first hours at this size, anything could have happened. He could have been toyed with until he was battered and worn out, and then  _snapped_  off to somewhere dangerous. Or, if the trickster decided he wasn't up to the game after all...  
  
Jacob shook his head. It did him no good to dwell on what might have happened if he dropped into the trickster's clutches so early. It didn't happen. Instead, he spent a horrifying time discovering that he didn't much like his favorite local brew anymore. He'd had enough of it for a lifetime, and memories that still made him cringe inwardly with terror. Trapped and helpless in a mouth, no more than an unremarkable little snack...  
  
 _No._  He forced the thoughts back before they overwhelmed him.  
  
Meanwhile, Dean grew still and recognition dawned on his face. "And you're the one that I've heard in my head. Telling me I'm not  _good_  enough to be around my friends. Telling me that Sam could do better, that I can't be trusted near them." The rage began to build and he remembered that voice taunting him. Poking at any insecurity it could find, the worries that he buried deep inside so no one else would ever know.  
  
Jacob glared at the trickster, but still didn't rise to the smug gloat all over his face. As much as he wanted to punch the guy, he refrained.  
  
"Dean ... don't let him get to you," Jacob muttered in warning.  
  
"Yeah, Dean don't let him get to you," the trickster mimed in a high pitched voice with a smirk. "You need to mind your blood pressure."  
  
Dean almost growled, taking a step forward and jabbing a hand at Jacob. "You need to fix him,  _now_ ," he threatened. "This game is over."  
  
"Or what? Are you gonna try and show me who's boss?" The trickster did a familiar twirl with his fingers, conjuring up a lollipop. "Don't see your wooden stake, big boy. And even if it was close by, there's no way you could even budge it. You're just a  _little_  outsized down here, Dean-O."  
  
The taunting voice, given a face after a week of putting Dean down, drove him over the edge at last. Dean slammed into the trickster, hauling him bodily off the ground. He ignored everything around them, and so missed the room shifting around them as he slammed into the other man. The lollipop was knocked out of the trickster's grasp, clattering to the floor and breaking.  
  
"Now you listen to me," Dean snapped right in his face. "You need to fix this,  _now_ , or I'm paying you a little visit later, and that stake you're talking about? It'll be sharp and waiting with _your_  name on it."  
  
The sarcastic smile never wavered once even as he was held off the ground. "Better watch your step, bucko."  
  
"What?" Dean glanced around and realized the room had returned to normal.   
  
With one notable exception.   
  
" _Jacob!_  "  
  


* * *

  
Jacob saw Dean tense right before the lunge. He reached out a hand towards Dean, fingertips just missing his jacket sleeve. "Wai-- !" His blurted warning didn't even get all the way out before his voice retreated fearfully back into him. Jacob jerked his arm back towards himself when it seemed like the entire scene shifted before his eyes.  
  
A tremendous impact and a shockwave knocked him aside. An earthquake, a terrifyingly-familiar earthquake, rumbled around him and Jacob pushed himself up to see the toe of a massive boot crushing the carpet fibers mere inches from him.  
  
Jacob stared wide-eyed at the boot, memories of hours ago rushing forth like a vicious tide. He could perfectly imagine a twitching spider's leg sticking out from under that thick rubber sole. He didn't need to imagine as the panic of nearly joining that spider in its fate crept in slowly at first, and then picked up the pace.  
  
His fear was interrupted when something huge and red landed several inches to the side. Jacob looked over in time to see the lollipop from before break in two when it hit the carpet. It was bigger than him now. The sound of the crack was subdued, insulated by the carpet.  
  
Jacob's imagination, which had never been very kind to him, supplied the memory of the sound he knew that lollipop would have made between enormous teeth. He winced as miniscule shards of colored sugar flew out from the impact. Dean would never see them at his current scale.  
  
 _Dean!_  Jacob hesitantly looked up.  
  
He wished he hadn’t. Jacob was lying on the ground between two titans, like he’d expected. Except one of them was  _suspended in the air,_  the trickster's massive bulk held up in Dean's rage. The trickster seemed unfazed while his shoes swayed several inches above the floor.  
  
Dean looked  _pissed._  Jacob couldn't help the shudders that raced all over his body. A glance to the side revealed the dresser, its shadowy underbelly beckoning him with twisted promises of safety. Jacob knew he wouldn't be any safer there. It was all a dream.  
  
Being a dream didn’t stop it from terrifying him. He pushed himself backwards, weakly dragging his shaking body along with the heels of his hands while he looked straight up. His neck ached. His heart pounded. Even with Dean suddenly calling his name, Jacob was afraid. What if he didn't see him down there, like before?  
  
"D-Dean," he called in response, his voice timid and wound up with the fear he tried so hard to keep at bay.  
  


* * *

  
Eyes wide and searching, Dean scanned the ground around his feet. He'd been standing down there bare moments ago, right  _next_  to Jacob.  _C'mon, it's not like he's far away!_  Dean's mind griped at him.  
  
 _There._  
  
He spotted a small dark form, a miniscule face framed by a hoodie staring up at the titans above. Jacob was barely three inches away from where his boot had landed, and that damn lollipop had nearly landed on the kid.  
  
"This ain't over," Dean growled at the trickster. He tossed the other man aside, ignoring the way the trickster vanished before hitting the bed. "Don't worry, Jacob, I gotcha," Dean said reassuringly as he squatted down to reach out. With the trickster around, there was no time to waste, so Dean went to scoop the small hunter onto his hand with his pinkie.  
  
There was a  _snap!_  in the air, and Jacob vanished before Dean could ever touch him.  
  
"Looking for this?" asked the trickster as he casually strolled back into sight. Jacob was hanging from two fingers, suspended by only his hoodie. His small body rocked back and forth in time with each step the other man took. Jacob kept his wide eyes fixed downward on the vertiginous drop. If he'd had anything to eat, he might have lost it then and there. The ground, seen so far below his swinging legs, had snared his attention. Even the way his hoodie pulled up under his arms didn't distract him from the drop.  
  
The candy remained on the floor, broken red shards illustrating what would happen to him if he plummeted. His tiny bones would be pulverized by the impact just as assuredly as if he had been stepped on.  
  
Dean tensed, ready to jump. "You son of a bitch. Leave him alone!" His fingers coiled inwards, ready to strike out the second he saw Jacob about to fall. Jacob flinched and curled into himself as the venomous tone rang out all around him, but he still looked straight down, his tiny face a mask of pure fear.  
  
The trickster lifted Jacob up close to his eyes, finally drawing Jacob's focus up from the floor. Those eyes shifted to Dean with that shit-eating grin once more, ignoring the helpless trembling in the person whose life he so casually held in his hand by little more than a thread. "If I drop him, can you catch him? The same way you caught Sammy that time he fell? How will a  _squeeze_  like that affect Jakey-boy, I wonder." He pursed his lips thoughtfully, then held Jacob out in front. "Care to test?"  
  
Jacob whipped his gaze to the side, trying to see the trickster's face beyond his enormous hand. It was difficult to see it, though he heard the mocking tone of voice. The trickster, after everything, might actually do it.  
  
He might actually  _drop_  Jacob just to see if Dean could catch him.  
  
Jacob squirmed in panic despite having no safe place to go. He tried to twist himself around to get a grip on the finger or thumb pinched around his overstretched hoodie. He drew his legs up as if he might keep himself away from the ground that way.  
  
"W-wait, d-don't," he pleaded, one hand barely glancing off the tip of a finger in a desperate reach behind himself.  
  
Jacob's breath hitched when the movement almost yanked his hoodie upwards more. If he kept struggling, he'd fall right out of the stretched garment.  
  
Jacob stammered, forcing himself to stop moving. To lower his arms despite the painful pressure of fabric digging into them. His fists curled around some of the cloth in an attempt to anchor himself even more.  
  
Since he couldn't see the trickster, Jacob stared at Dean. He looked ready to pounce, and his vicious glare remained on his face. It wasn't meant for Jacob, but seeing it from a position where his life literally hung in the balance made his heart skip several accelerated beats. His stomach roiled with fear.  
  
Everything in Jacob's face said  _Help,_  but his eyes also had a knowing look in them. The trickster wouldn't just calmly hand him back to Dean. Perhaps he'd taunt him more, using Jacob as a prop to throw Dean's mistakes in his face before sending him far away. There was nothing he could do, and nothing Dean could do. At the moment, Jacob's life belonged to only one person.  
  
It was as though the world held its breath. Dean was frozen, stuck staring at the dangling form of his best friend. There was nothing he could do to get Jacob back. Anything he tried could end up crushing him. His eyes stayed glued on Jacob and that hand, waiting for the second the fingers loosened.  
  
“No?” the trickster asked. He smiled knowingly. “I see you know your place, Dean-O. Now,” he pulled the hand that was holding Jacob closer, ignoring the tiny, rattling gasp of fear. “You said a lot back there when you trapped Jake. Such a heartwarming speech!”   
  
He sauntered around the frozen hunter, stepping lightly over the lollipop. Dean tried to turn to follow him, but found that his freeze had become permanent. The only thing that gave him away was his eyes as they tried to follow the trickster as Jacob moved out of sight.  
  
The trickster wasn't holding Jacob out anymore, but that wasn't any comfort. Jacob shut his eyes tight as every single booming step swung him like a tiny pendulum. He felt like any second his hoodie would give out and tear to shreds, sending him on a one way trip to the floor. The trickster probably wouldn't stop it from happening.  
  
 _Don't drop me._  
  
Jacob shuddered at the thought. He was so completely helpless. Control of his life hadn't been in his hands since he first ate that stupid mushroom. It was all here, in the trickster's hand, casually dangled over imminent, stomach-turning danger.   
  
The slow, torturous stroll around Dean ended, coming back into the older hunter’s view. “For Jake’s sake, Dean. I hope you meant what you said back there. Otherwise, his ride’s about to get  _just a little_  bumpy.”  
  
The freeze on Dean ended right as the fingers loosened around Jacob’s hoodie. The small hunter plummeted towards the ground from over five feet in the air, almost three hundred feet in the air to him, tiny legs kicking and miniscule arms reaching for nothing as he fell.   
  
Dean lunged forward with a desperate cry, both hands moving to cup under the falling body. Between one breath and the next, a loud  _SNAP_  sounded out and the small body simply ceased to exist. Jacob was gone before he landed in the cupped hands, teleported away to wherever the trickster chose.  
  
Leaving Dean alone.   
  
This time completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next:** April 25 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	60. An Alien Landscape

When he came to, the first thing Jacob noticed was a chill.  
  
He opened his eyes, and the second thing he noticed was green  _everywhere_. It was almost like waking up under the embrace of Bowman's protective wings, but there were no giant sprites around him. No black shirt beneath him. Sam and Bowman were gone and he didn’t know where he was, or where Dean was.  
  
All he could figure out was that he was in a pile of leaves. Leaves and the almost freezing dew that clung to them.  
  
 _Is it morning?_  he thought to himself in confusion. It was barely evening when Dean had been working on the laptop. How long had that dream lasted?  
  
Jacob shifted around, trying to sit up to take stock of his situation. His prone position, the pain in his wrapped torso, and the shivering tension that remained after flying what felt like hundreds of feet in the air by his hoodie kept him from escaping. He rolled over and pushed one of the larger leaves away from him, barely finding the strength for even that.   
  
At least here he had the excuse that the weight of a lot more greens rested over him. He could see them layered above his head out of the corner of his eye while he sat there. He winced as a cold droplet of water the size of a softball landed on his shoulder, soaking through his hoodie and sending a shudder of sudden cold through him.  
  
While he shifted around in the enormous leaves, Jacob peered upwards, trying to figure out where he was. Light from above illuminated the leaves. Dark curves indicated some of the veins of the leaves like deep green rivers, most of them thicker than his fingers and serving as a poignant reminder of his current size.   
  
As his fuzzy hearing returned to him and filtered past the lingering echo of the last  _snap_ , Jacob frowned. Any thought that he'd been returned to a pile of foliage in Wellwood was shattered by the background rumble. Noises that wouldn’t exist in the serene forest. Though a bright, warm light flickered down through the leaves, Jacob couldn't be in Bowman's idyllic home.  
  
There was an absolute  _clamor_  of giant voices beyond his hiding place. Laughing, content conversation blended together as people enjoyed themselves. Every single one of them was oblivious to Jacob's presence.   
  
Titans, countless titans, had to be out there.  
  
And no way of knowing if Dean was even anywhere in the area. No way to know if he would even be able to  _find_  Jacob.  
  
Jacob didn't know where he was, but he could only hope they wouldn't come stomping on his pile of leaves any time soon. He'd have no way of avoiding their careless steps; he had a hard enough time avoiding  _anything_  anyone did while he was this size. Even Dean had come close to killing him, and he was the only human that knew to watch for a tiny, inch and a half tall human.  
  
The memory of the dream filtered back to him, and his stomach clenched at the thought of where he was just moments ago. Suspended high in the air by nothing more than his hoodie, he’d been no more than a prop in a sick joke on Dean. Helpless to avoid being used as a tool to guilt Dean even more.  
  
Then, a heartstopping plunge and another infernal  _snap_  sent him away yet again. Far away from any help, so soon after he'd just found it in him to trust Dean again. Green eyes appeared in his memory,  _desperate_  green eyes, begging for his trust. For even the chance to earn his trust again.  
  
Wherever he was, Jacob prayed desperately that the trickster had left Dean a clue like the last time. Some way to find him before the worst happened, some way to  _save_ him. With so many people around, Jacob could only imagine countless shoes the size of public transportation. Hulking bodies weighing down the treads of those shoes as they casually walked about. Even without fully intending to flatten him, those shoes, those sneakers, those  _boots_  would destroy Jacob in an instant.  
  
No way to defend himself.  
  
It was better to wait in his current position. He was hidden, and he'd be able to hear if Dean came calling his name.   
  
Hopefully.   
  
His hiding place was cold, and a variety of familiar smells he couldn't place wafted all around. Savory and sweet smells both that ... made his mouth water?  
  
Jacob kept trying to right himself, and took a closer look at the leaf he'd woken on. He brushed a hand over it and wondered what was so familiar about it that set off more alarm bells in his head with each passing second. His heart was still pounding from his most recent visit with the trickster.   
  
He found no comfort in the realization of what type of leaf it was.  
  
It was a spinach leaf, dark green and softer than the lettuce above him. He moved part of it aside, and there was a burst of red orange color from a tomato underneath it the size of Jacob. The smooth red side curved away from him, slick condensation covering it in hand-sized droplets. A fragile lattice of veins was visible in the skin, microscopic details clear to his eyes.  
  
Jacob could remember sliding a spinach leaf just like the one he was sitting on underneath an overturned vase. Something for Bowman to eat while he was imprisoned there. The sprite, in his fear, clung to the leaf like it was his lifeline. With that pitiful image in mind, Jacob figured out where he was.  
  
He was in a  _salad._  
  
No sooner did he realize it than Jacob felt tremors. The tip of the leaf he sat on quivered and the droplets of condensation vibrated in time with the shudders. Jacob's heart pounded as the quaking he recognized as casual footsteps drew nearer and nearer. He hardly dared breathe.  
  
There was a sound overhead, like metal scraping briefly on something, and then, without any further warning, something crashed into the greens all around him. He saw flashes of silver as two metal pillars dove into the salad, shredding through enormous crispy leaves that Jacob would have trouble  _lifting,_  let alone breaking.  
  
The metal pillars stopped on either side. The entire world seemed to hold its breath along with him as his fate was balanced between salad tongs, of all things.  
  
He swallowed a yell when they rushed towards him, gathering dewy salad greens between them in the process. More drops of water soaked Jacob through and he shivered from cold as he tried desperately to scramble away.  
  
He was too slow. The shifting greens around him jostled Jacob easily between the salad tongs and he found himself compressed between them along with a car-sized portion of salad. The leaf he had woken up on bare moments ago was bent in half next to him, easily destroyed by the movement of the simple but devastatingly powerful tool.  
  
The tongs clamped shut and lifted.  
  
His tenuous sense of solid ground vanished from beneath his feet. Jacob squeezed his eyes shut as he and the salad lifted out of their container at rapid speed. He didn't even have room to struggle in the tight grasp of whoever wanted their salad, and wanted it  _now._  
  
 _Definitely not Dean,_  his panicked mind was kind enough to remind him. Dean never touched the salads Sam ordered, unless there were no other options.  
  
More light, more sound, even more aromas made it to Jacob's senses once he was no longer buried in the salad bowl. The happy laughing voices all around were joined by the clatter of dishes against each other, the scrape of enormous spoons against the bottom of numerous pans. He heard the clink of forks against plates and the clunk of empty drink glasses stacked together by a waiter in a hurry.  
  
Even though he was surrounded by greens, the smell of the salad was almost nonexistent. In the open air, the smell disappeared entirely. Up in the air, Jacob could smell the aroma of meats and seasonings and even a hint of sweet from a dessert table.   
  
 _Where the hell am I?!_  crossed his mind.  
  
As quickly as he rose in the air, Jacob was lowered again. The metal tongs clinked against ceramic before parting, releasing their leafy prisoners (and Jacob) at last. He sucked in a breath and tumbled to his hands and knees. A lettuce leaf leaned heavily over him, blocking him from sight overhead. He was on a tan colored ceramic surface, and Jacob balked when he realized he was on someone's  _plate._  
  
Someone’s  _dinner plate._  
  
Before anything else could cross his mind, more weight landed on top of the leafy greens that canopied his head. He was tossed to the ground from the sudden increase in weight as the leaves were crushed down by the extra helping of salad.  
  
Apparently, the person whose plate he was on  _really_  wanted their salad.  
  
Gathering himself, he crawled forward army-style, glad to hear the clatter of the tongs being discarded. A tremor echoed up to him through the ceramic floor of the plate as whoever carried it took a step, and then another.   
  
Despite the jarring movements, he kept moving forward anyway. He didn’t stop until he could cautiously push up the edge of a spinach leaf like a curtain. He needed to know what was going on.  
  
Beyond the protection of his leafy cover, Jacob paled at the sight of the room. His breathing quickened with fear.  
  
He was inches from the edge of a plate the width of a lighthouse. A crouton that would make a decent-sized ottoman was resting nearby, its mild seasoning filling the nearby air with a deceptively pleasant scent. Beyond more salad greens was the slightly raised rim of the plate.  
  
And beyond that, Jacob saw a dining area  _packed_  with giants.  
  
He couldn't count the tables and booths from his hidden position in a salad. There were too many. They stretched away until they dwindled from sight.   
  
Every single one of them was occupied.   
  
The most horrifying sight in his life was disguised as an innocent buffet. Steaming plates of food rested in front of happy diners, talking amongst their families with no concept of how terrifying they looked. Jacob's hands shook but he couldn't tear his eyes away.   
  
Everywhere he looked, food was being shoved into eager, waiting,  _watering_  mouths.  
  
A spoonful of mashed potatoes, spaghetti twirled around a fork, a strip of steak. The variety didn't have room to confuse him over how horrifying it was. A child in their high chair slammed a chubby hand down on a grape before wrapping clumsy fingers around it and shoving it at their face. A man ate a bite of spiced chicken before immediately washing it down with a long swig of coke. A couple in the back corner shared a sundae, feeding each other a bite before giggling quietly.  
  
The last glimpse Jacob got of the dining area before his current transportation turned away was of a fork stabbing through a salad much like the one he was hidden in, skewering right through the lettuce and spinach.  
  
Jacob needed to get off the plate before he met a similar fate. Once food was on a plate, there was a diminishing window of time before it vanished, never to be seen again.   
  
Swallowing hard, he edged forward to get a better view. To the side, he could just barely see the thumb of one of the hands carrying the plate. There was enough strength in that hand to crush Jacob from existence if they caught sight of him. Swatting him like nothing more than a bug. They’d end up dumping the salad and his remains in a garbage, and his friends would never know what had become of him.  
  
Jacob tried to push that out of his mind. He needed to focus if he was going to survive this. With that thought, he looked forward to where they were walking, and his heart fluttered at the sight.  
  
A wide country buffet was arranged farther than his eyes could see. Jacob was overwhelmed by the many options he saw, with titans scooping mountainous portions onto plates just like the one he was on. The trickster had sent Jacob to a place where he couldn’t do a damn thing about how close he was to  _food._  After falling in Dean's cup, Jacob had tried so hard to avoid being too close to food.   
  
And now he was on a plate, a secret ingredient in an otherwise unremarkable salad.  
  
Heat radiated off of the various options laid out as his ride walked closer. When they reached the first counter, a hand soared overhead to the serving spoon in a pan of grilled chicken. The shadow passed over his hiding spot, blanketing the area in temporary shade. The steam flying off the cooked meat sent a tremor through Jacob’s core and he winced. While it would make for a more interesting salad, that stuff would scorch him if he was caught under it.  
  
He noticed that the plate rested idly on the front of the buffet counter. A slotted metal surface was attached to make sliding plates easier. The metal had barely a gap to the counter itself; if Jacob could get across it, he'd be able to hide behind one of the many pans of food arrayed strategically in front of him.  
  
There was no time to think it through. Several strips of steaming grilled chicken were soaring closer and closer to his hiding place. It was time to move before the owner of that hand noticed him fleeing her plate.  
  
He pushed up from where he lay hidden and practically leapt to the edge of the plate. It wasn't a moment too soon. Without warning, the plate slid along the metal counter under the woman’s control as it was meant to do, and Jacob missed a step, tumbling right off of it. He landed between the metal grooves with an "Oof!" and a pained grimace.  
  
Collapsed on his back, it was easy for Jacob to realize a shadow had fallen over him even with his eyes scrunched shut in pain. He opened them frantically, praying that the second of inattention wasn’t about to cost him his life. He was expecting a hand to be descending on him, ready to crush him from existence. After all, Jacob was bug sized in a restaurant. The first instinct anyone would have, employee  _or_  customer, would be to kill it immediately.   
  
Kill  _Jacob_  immediately.   
  
And he'd just landed himself front and center where a lot of traffic moved by.  
  
He was surprised to be looking at the underside of a plate. Jacob's heart pounded with both fear from the close call and confusion. A loud  _clack_  of a serving spoon sounded above. A new buffet patron had already replaced the one he just escaped. Oppressive heat built in the narrow, dark space as hot food piled onto the plate above him. It was like hiding in a small oven. If he reached up to touch the ceramic plate, he was sure he'd burn his hand.  
  
Jacob blinked rapidly when the customer suddenly turned away, taking their plate (and his cover) with them. He had no time to dawdle and thank God he hadn't been seen. That danger was still very real.  
  
He jumped up and lurched towards the first ridge in the metal, diving over it inelegantly. If Dean saw the way he tumbled over it and landed heavily, the more experienced hunter might have laughed.   
  
Might have, if Jacob were normal sized and had tried to jump a normal sized fence and landed with a normal sized thud on the ground.  
  
Nothing was normal. Everything was loud and bright and chaotic. There was no way that Dean would laugh if he saw the danger his best friend had found himself in. Jacob almost couldn't believe he’d managed to make the jump to the main counter of the buffet.   
  
He never once turned back. Footsteps were already returning even as he dove behind the edge of one of the pans.  
  
Sweltering heat surrounded him. Jacob was positive that the buffet counter was heated from below; he remembered the few times he’d been to a restaurant like this. The pans fit into their slots, and underneath, the whole thing was filled with boiling water.   
  
A boiling lake was hidden just beneath Jacob's shoes.  
  
He had to keep moving. There might be a counter that didn't have heating like that.  _Desserts,_  he thought distractedly. He needed to get away from the entrees and find where the blessedly cool desserts were on display. He didn't know which way to go, but Jacob picked a direction and went with it, darting across a gap between pans.  
  
The heat and the intense smells pervading the air dizzied him. The cuts on his back stung mercilessly as sweat seeped into them, sped along by the sweltering steam that choked his breathing. Jacob brushed his bangs away from where they matted to his forehead and ducked behind yet another pan. He was still starving and exhausted, but he dared not try to get even the food spilled between pans. He had to stay hidden. Had to keep moving. Had to-  
  
For a second, he wavered in place and leaned on the closest pan to catch his breath. A sudden jolt of pain stopped his thoughts and he drew his hand close to himself in alarm. He'd made a mistake. The palm and heel of his left hand sported a nasty red burn from where he'd mistakenly leaned against a fresh pan full of some steaming dish.   
  
Jacob doubled over, thankfully still hidden from any restaurant patrons. His mouth opened in a silent cry of pain and he had to bite his sleeve to keep it from becoming not so silent.  
  
The reason he was here, the trickster's warnings, and even his own name came and went. Jacob was in more and more pain, and being surrounded by steam and heat only exacerbated his most recent injury. He crouched low and lifted the hem of his hoodie with his free hand, while the fingers of the burned one curled like claws over the pained skin. In a vehement show of strength he ripped his dark t-shirt, freeing a strip of fabric. It was already damp from steam.  
  
It didn't matter.  
  
Jacob choked on a noise of pain as he pressed the fabric to his hand and started wrapping it up. It was a hasty job, but it was tight around his hand and wrist just to be secure, and it was good enough. It had to be good enough.  
  
 _Keep moving._  
  
Jacob needed to find a way to safety. Everything about his current environment was designed to be unsafe for him. He darted behind a pan of green bean casserole just as an enormous spoon, big enough to lift a pickup truck, scooped up a huge steaming pile of the food. Jacob would be powerless to escape something like that. The weight alone could hurt him, and the heat would cook him alive.  
  
There was no one to help him.  
  
Dean was too far away, and who knew how much time he had left?  
  
Who knew if Dean even had a clue of where to look?  
  
Jacob was helpless and alone and surrounded by happy dinner patrons and the food they just couldn't  _wait_  to try.  
  
At length, he reached the edge of one of the buffet counters. The gap to the next one was as wide as Sam was tall. Jacob wouldn't make that jump even if he wasn't battered and overheated and starved and exhausted. He'd need to venture back to the grooved metal at the front of the counter. It reached farther, and he could jump across to the next long arrangement of food.   
  
Maybe it wouldn't be a burning hell.  
  
He peered around the corner of his current pan, a tall container angled towards the front of the counter to display its contents to all who approached. For once, luck was on his side. No one was walking towards the buffet, not even an attendant. Jacob ducked around the pan and crept alongside it towards the front of the counter. He kept his eyes wide open despite the heat tempting him to squint.  
  
Jacob wasn't sure what happened next. As he approached the front of the counter, where the edge of the pan was closest to flush with the surface, an attendant rushed by with a stack of plates in hand, bumping the counter. The whole buffet table wobbled from their quick passage, and before Jacob knew it he was tumbling.  
  
Right into the pan.  
  
Full of desperate panic, he squirmed around to right himself.   
  
 _Gotta get out!_  
  
Jacob was surrounded by seasoned rice. He’d fallen near the corner of the pan, a warehouse full of enormous grains laid before him. The grains formed an oddly textured surface that moved when he moved. Every attempt at standing was like trying to stand in a bottomless ball pit. A serving spoon like all the others was buried in the white grains, a handle stretching out and waiting to be grabbed.  
  
Jacob turned around and tried to jump up to the edge of the pan. His hand slapped the metal and he slid back down into the rice. His eyes widened and he tried again. This was the only place he even had a  _dream_  of reaching the edge, and he was so small he couldn't reach.  
  
Jacob was trapped.  
  
Only a moment later, an enormous hand came out of nowhere and grabbed the handle of the spoon with an almost violent intensity from Jacob's point of view. He gasped and shrank into the corner as far as he could, hoping the person shoveling a mountain of rice onto their plate wouldn't lean forward and notice him cowering there.  
  
The spoon returned, the shadow falling over the rice as it approached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where's the worst place you could drop a tiny, you ask?
> 
> I think this chapter sums that up nicely.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, semi-hiatus this week and next, but not to stop posting. There's a big part of BA about to drop, and no other distractions while it posts. Normal posting will resume May 6th. More information to come on the next chapter of Bittersweet Parting.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Next:** May 6 th 2018 at 9pm.


	61. Out of the Frying Pan, into the Dinner Plate

Jacob couldn't keep an accurate measure of time. He remained huddled in the corner of the rice pan for what felt like an age, watching with a pounding heart as the grains disappeared overhead, sometimes with a few pieces falling back into the pan. The serving spoon clattered against plate after plate after plate. Every time, the loud noise sent a bolt of fear through him.  
  
Jacob knew that everything in the pan with him had only one destination.  
  
It was only a matter of time before someone made an ambitious scoop and went for the last remaining rice in the corners where Jacob hid. Then he'd be back on a plate again, an unwilling part of someone's meal to be carried into the dining room. Escape would be perilous at best, and impossible at worst.  
  
Jacob would die without anyone ever knowing where he'd gone. He'd come so close to it several times. His friends had always come through before, but this time was different. What reason did he have to believe that, among all the food available, he'd be easy to find?   
  
Even if Dean figured out whatever restaurant this was, Jacob was just too small. So small that he'd probably be missed in someone's serving of rice even with his black hoodie. No one would expect him there, so they'd write him off as a shadow before shoveling the seasoned rice into their waiting mouth. Jacob would be destroyed by eager teeth in one fatal chomp, unnoticed food to some stranger. He shut his eyes tight as memories of his time in a mouth flooded in.  
  
The world rocked and Jacob's thoughts came to a screeching halt. A clattering accompanied his rapid ascent with the pan, and he tumbled head over heels with the rice as it was lifted out of its mounting in the buffet table. A landslide (riceslide?) drew him to one edge of the pan, while a giant spoon ushered him along faster.  
  
Jacob and the rest of the old pan of rice were dumped into a new, fresh one. Jacob winced from the fresh steam, but noticed that the rice was almost flush with the edge of the pan.  
  
His chance at escape had finally come!   
  
Jacob struggled to move towards the edge. He'd been dumped right in the center of the pan, and it felt like he had miles to travel through a ball pit, but he could do it. He  _had_  to. Survival was the name of the game and he would not survive if he stayed where he was. He wanted so badly to escape the trickster’s latest assigned death for him.  
  
The spoon returned and Jacob nearly jumped out of his skin, but it didn't scoop him up along with a truckload of rice. No, that would have been merciful luck. Instead, the busy attendant shifted the spoon under the surface of the rice before lifting it up again, sending a small wave of the white grains to land over Jacob. They were  _stirring_  it.  
  
Jacob lost track of up and down as the rice all around him was tossed about, mixing the old pan with the fresh one. It felt like forever. He couldn't help but think of his chaotic stint in a swirling beer cup. The motion there had been tame compared to how much he got tossed around now. Jacob was surprised he didn't bang his head on something. The metal walls around him, the sharp edges of the spoon...  
  
When the stirring finally stopped, Jacob was trapped under a heavy pile of rice, but not enough that he couldn't move. Despite his body being pushed right to its limit, despite every nerve wailing at him for relief, and despite the hopeless voice in his head telling him to give up, Jacob moved. He made his way up, desperately searching for the surface of the rice. It was his only chance.  
  
Jacob was sure he was almost there. He just needed to get to the surface of all this rice so he could see which direction he could wade out of the enormous rice pan. He just needed to make it a little farther before someone came along wanting rice.   
  
 _Just a little farther…_  
  
Right when Jacob broke the cumbersome surface of the rice, a gleaming metal wall slammed down in front of him, angling under the rice in one smooth, powerful motion. The serving spoon wasn't a knife, but it might as well have the precision of one with how naturally and fluidly it situated itself under the rice.  
  
Under the rice, and under  _Jacob._  
  
This was  _not_  how he wanted to be liberated from the pan of rice. He struggled towards the edge of the spoon with an exhausted desperation, momentarily wondering how his limbs found the energy after everything he'd endured. He still had a chance, so long as he could escape. The customer probably didn't even notice him there. That was why Jacob had huddled in the corner before - he was so easy to miss in the small mountain of rice as it lifted away from the pan.  
  
The edge of the spoon was  _right there,_  but before he could reach it and jump off the whole thing was tilting, and Jacob got a view of yet another huge plate before he took another dizzy tumble. Rice cascaded around him, and Jacob found himself landing in a heap within the stuff as they both fell from the spoon. The hot, freshly washed plate greeted him with yet another bruise and knocked the wind from his lungs. His struggles immediately softened. Before, surrounded completely by football-sized rice, his squirming was easier to miss. Here, on a plate, he had to be more subtle or risk being swatted.  
  
Jacob managed to right himself under a small covering of rice. He peered around, gathering information in instants with frantic glances. He was equidistant from all edges of the plate. The rice had been dumped right in the center. He glimpsed the powerful hand clutching the plate on one side. The thumb alone pressed on the edge with enough force to reduce Jacob to nothing.  
  
Much like this person's  _mouth_  would do soon if Jacob didn't get away. Shuddering at the memory of a gaping black abyss, a whirlpool of liquid guzzled down every second as the current tugged him towards it, he shifted, ready to dart back across the plate and leap off. Even falling back into the rice pan gave him more chances at survival than being stuck on a plate.  
  
Before Jacob could make his move, a shadow returned and more rice was dumped on his head. He flinched down, wincing from the sudden extra weight; it wasn't a lot, but it was more than he needed. It just created another obstacle for him.   
  
Before he could recover from the added weight, the plate turned from the table, soaring away towards another section to get more food to go with the helping of rice. Jacob winced as the plate began to bob through the air.  
  
He had to escape. Back to the buffet counter. It was hot and there was steam and a loud clatter every time a spoon slipped from a giant hand, but at least there he wasn't part of someone's  _dinner arrangement._  
  
Jacob tried to struggle towards the edge of the rice pile, ready to make another desperate leap when the customer was close. Just when he reached the end of the rice, a steak the size of a couple trucks landed right in front of him, still radiating heat and steam. Jacob was so startled by its sudden appearance that he flinched back into the rice, concealing himself again. He stared out at the hunk of meat with hooded eyes as juice leaked from its walls.  
  
Every path Jacob tried to take towards the edge of the plate was blocked like that. A tidy pile of peas tumbled off a gleaming spoon, some chicken tenders released from the clutches of a pair of gleaming metal tongs, a massive mountain of mashed potatoes tumbled from another spoon. Gravy poured over the top of the white, fluffy peak, a mini volcano sitting close by with the threat of molten gravy searing his skin.   
  
The mix only became more scattered as each avenue of escape was blocked until Jacob was trapped in the very center of a sampling plate. The customer was just trying a lot of different things to start out their meal.   
  
Little did they know there was a hidden ingredient ...  
  
Jacob's heart sank as the customer finally turned away from the buffet table. He'd missed each and every opportunity to make good on his escape. Now they were going to their table, every thudding step shaking through him. Jacob was surrounded by the aromas and the steam of the food stacked around him. Knowing he was an unwilling  _part_  of the meal made it impossible to appreciate the smells, especially remembering that the enticing smells would whet the appetite of his unknowing captor. Jacob was starving, but with each step he was coming closer and closer to feeding someone else.  
  
As if chiming in to confirm his despair, a loud gurgle from the stomach the plate was tucked against resounded around him. With the customer searching for a table and their plate carried in front of them, Jacob was once again not far from a stomach. Once again, it was sounding its demands loudly and clearly.  
  
Jacob shook in the pile of rice as another yowl emitted from that stomach. The long walk continued, and Jacob could only see one thing at the end. Twice now Jacob had almost been eaten.  _Third time's the charm._  Soon enough his constant battle to survive would be over.   
  
He'd lost.  
  


* * *

  
Minutes dragged by, each cautious step a small quake. Jacob remained huddled in the pile of rice, his hands covering his weary eyes. He couldn't stand to watch the dining area passing by. Not while he was the centerpiece for a plate just like the ones sitting in front of other customers. Plates being cleared with gusto.  
  
Jacob was trapped and his only way off was down a one-way slide.  
  
The food all around the rice was piled up, higher than him in more than a few directions, taunting shadows cast over his head as the lights above passed by. Jacob should be the one carrying a plate like this. Not sitting on it, trapped and at the mercy of an immense stranger whose immediate plans included _eating_  that food. Savoring every bite, including the one that would claim Jacob.   
  
The smells made his stomach whine and his temples throb from hunger, but Jacob couldn't find it in him to eat.  
  
It wouldn't be a terrible choice for his last meal, considering the delectable aromas that surrounded him -  _that covered him_  - but thinking about it that way just turned his appetite away. Jacob couldn't eat when he knew he was about to be eaten. No escape, no mercy. No one knew he was there and if they did he'd be tossed to the ground and stomped on for the bug he was in their eyes.  
  
The cadence of the customer's walk changed. Suddenly, the twisting and turning stopped, and the customer with the plate in their clutches walked faster.  
  
They'd found a seat.  
  
Jacob uncovered his eyes as his stomach climbed partway up his throat and weightlessness hit for a few seconds. The rapid downward motion completed with a resounding bang that jarred his very bones, signaling that the customer had finally found a table and was setting up to start eating. The sound of a booth bench creaking under new weight as someone slid into it had never sounded so chilling. The colossal weight of the restaurant patron settled in place in preparation of dinner.  
  
Shadows flickered around as a massive hand stretched overhead, picking up the napkin-wrapped silverware. The paper tore and Jacob shuddered. He didn't look up as the loud metal clattered above, knowing the titan that had him was preparing to eat. He had no time. He needed to size up his new surroundings and make his escape.  
  
Before those utensils found him instead.  
  
His eyes flashed over the tabletop, observing the new landscape he'd been unwillingly taken to.  
  
There was a salt and pepper shaker, each easily stretching over twice Jacob's height. If he could run to them, he could hide. He just needed to get to them without being seen. If he snuck out and dashed for the edge of the plate right when the human was distracted by their first bite, he might be able to duck behind them. He just needed an opportunity.  
  
Fate had other plans for him.  
  
Jacob, it seemed, was not allowed to cling to hope. That first bite of the meal was apparently destined to be of the scrumptious rice he huddled under.  
  
Once again a spoon slipped down right in front of him, effortlessly cutting into the mound and gathering up a mouthful of rice with the hidden ingredient of Jacob. He tried to squirm away carefully, counting on the smaller size of the new spoon to play in his favor, but the metal moved too quick for him to escape, sliding right in and centering him in the shallow bowl. Before he managed to toss himself off, back into the rice waiting on the plate below, he was lifted away. Grains at the edge of the spoon tumbled off at the new direction it took.  
  
Ascending towards a waiting mouth.  
  
He was too exposed here. Jacob's heart hammered as the landscape of food slowly dropped away from him, reminding him of his complete lack of control in his fate. One person controlled that fate, and they intended his journey to end. Right in their cavernous stomach, waiting for the rest of the meal to join him. He curled up on the spoon, covered well by the rice, his pulse pounding in his ears.  
  
 _No, no, no!_  
  
He was stuck on the decision of how he'd die. Remaining on the spoon to be shoved into a mouth and eaten, or trying to get away and getting swatted to death by some disgusted restaurant patron.  
  
The spoon kept lifting, making the decision for him. Jacob quivered more when he heard the customer swallow. A loud gulp that Jacob knew all too well, having heard it from inside a mouth before. Where he would be going soon.  
  
Back into a huge mouth... slipping down a long, terrifyingly slick slide to the bottomless pit that waited eagerly for him, the first bite of what was sure to be a huge meal at the all-you-can-eat buffet. More following immediately, burying him in a meal that would be forgotten soon enough, just one morsel among many passing through. The smallest, most forgettable morsel that the customer would never even know they'd swallowed.  
  
And digested.  
  
He chanced a look over at the giant face and immediately regretted it. His eyes zeroed in on the mouth, unable to glance away from his imminent destination. The ascent of the spoon came to a halt the moment it was level with that huge, watering mouth. Huge lips parted and Jacob's heart skipped several beats at the sight of the muscular tongue that slid across them, wetting them with a slick sheen of saliva in anticipation of the first bite.  
  
Licking their lips in anticipation of the food _Jacob_  was in.  
  
The mouth opened a little wider, revealing the gleaming white teeth he was about to pass between. The darkness at the back of the throat beckoned tauntingly at Jacob, the gullet waiting for that first swallow to sate the stomach that waited below, the rumbles silent for the moment as it waited. He curled up into the smallest ball he could manage as the familiar sensation of hot breath blew over his body, reminding him of the sauna hidden inside.   
  
Jacob's eyes shut tight and every muscle in his body shook with fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we return to Jacob's trials after a week of nothing from the world's tiniest teddy! As you can see, things haven't gotten much better!
> 
> **Next:** May 9 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	62. The Dinner Rush

Dean’s hands plunged towards Jacob, racing against time to capture the falling body in his hands.  
  
It was too late. A  _snap_  echoed around him, the sound lingering longer than it naturally would. Jacob vanished, leaving the last member of their group to catch his balance before he fell over.  
  
For a few seconds, he stood there, staring at the air Jacob had been falling through moments before. A tangible, crushing sense of failure fell over his shoulders and his fingers twitched. Dean’s head snapped up, an angry glare boring holes into the trickster. “Bastard,” he spat out. “What did you do?”  
  
“Relax,” the trickster said, smarmy grin locked in place. “I just gave him a head start.” He idly tapped a finger against his chin. “Or was it  _you_  I was supposed to give a head start…” He shook his head with a laugh. “Either way. No more tricks. No more illusions. This one is hands off for me, Dean-O.” He held up his hands to demonstrate, wiggling his eyebrows. “You talked big back there, and now it’s time to put that to the test.”  
  
The trickster walked over and Dean realized he was frozen again, boots glued in place and shoulders tense with a punch he couldn’t throw. He could only glare as the trickster adjusted his leather jacket, winking as a card was tucked into one of the inside pockets. “And you better hurry.” The trickster’s eyebrows went up seriously.  
  
“It’s the dinner rush.”  
  


* * *

  
Dean woke with a gasp. “Jacob! You…”  
  
He saw the computer and trailed off. There was no sign of the small hunter, and no sign that he’d ever even been there. In however long it took them to dream of that encounter with the trickster, he’d been whisked away elsewhere.  
  
Jacob was gone.  
  
The dream came back all at once, hitting Dean like a sledgehammer. Jacob standing there at the same size, looking battered as all hell. The trickster showing up. Dean and the trickster snapping back to normal height and leaving Jacob down on the ground. Dean shut his eyes at the thought of almost stepping on Jacob, followed by the sight of his best friend dangling helplessly in the air.  
  
And then vanishing for good.  
  
Dean buried his head in his hands. He’d failed. A fucking  _failure_. He hadn’t been able to stop Sam and Bowman from being taken and now Jacob was gone, with no clues left to help find him. Just that chilling phrase.  
  
 _It’s the dinner rush_.  
  
“Sonovabitch,” Dean hissed. He went to reach for the laptop. He had no idea what he was going to do, look up something,  _anything,_  but that was when he felt it. Something poking at his chest.  
  
Glancing down, he reached into his jacket, shocked to find that the card the trickster had stuck in his jacket was still there. It was out in a flash, and his eyes widened as he read the card.  
  
 **The Shaded Oak. Best home cooking this side of Illinois!**  
  
Dean's mouth went dry.  _It’s the dinner rush._  
  
“Goddammit…” he said, reality sinking in.  
  
Dean didn't bother grabbing anything but his keys as he darted out the door.  
  


* * *

  
Dean practically burst into the restaurant, breathing heavily. The parking lot outside was full and he'd had to run all the way from the warehouse next door, the Impala left sitting by herself next to an empty loading dock.  
  
He knew every second he wasted parking could be Jacob's last.  
  
All eyes were drawn to him in the waiting area. A mother that was holding her son's hand drew him back, away from the strange man that was staring around the room with panic in his eyes.  
  
The buffet was  _big_.  
  
Normally, he might have paused here, admired the sight of a smorgasbord fit for a king, full to the brim of steamy hot food just waiting for him to dive into. Maybe even caught the eye of the cute girl at the register. She was running a line to get everyone into the dining area, a grin dimpling her cheeks as she cheerily directed the guests.  
  
 _This_  time, Dean's mind leaped right into hunter mode. Dozens, if not hundreds of people were milling around the distant food bars. Each person out there might be the one that caught sight of Jacob. Swatting him like a bug, thinking he was a toy... Dean's stomach churned at the next thought, the one he'd tried to stave off right up until he saw the enormous buffet laid out before him.  
  
Any of these people might be the one that  _ate_  Jacob.  
  
If the so-called trickster lived up to his previous pranks, there was no way that Jacob would be dropped down into a dark corner where he could hide. He'd be dropped front and center into the most dangerous place the trickster could find.  
  
The center of a plate of food. Surrounded by an edible landscape that would soon make its way into a stomach that could hold it all, and then some. Buried unnoticed amongst a plate of delicacies as a spoon lifted up to a mouth.  
  
Dropped into a glass of soda. He might get swept up as the drink was chugged, ignored in the massive stream of coke as it followed the irresistible current straight down off the cliff Dean had already almost sent him plunging over. If  _he’d_  had a hard time noticing Jacob like that, there wasn’t a chance with a complete stranger.  
  
Even if Jacob was spotted before being eaten, the people would just assume he was a bug. Who in their right mind would think that a man standing an inch and a half tall would be possible? No, must just be a bug... better swat it.  
  
The memory of the spider popping beneath Dean's boot stuck out in his mind. He'd almost stepped on Jacob by  _accident_. One of his best friends, reduced to nothing more than a crunch under his heel. An unrecognizable smear on the sole of his boot he'd think nothing of as he cleaned the bottom.  
  
Now, there were over a hundred people around that could do that. Assuming Jacob wasn't just swept up with a heaping spoonful of pulled pork, tangled up and unnoticed as his desperately struggling body was shoved into a watering mouth...  
  
Swallowed.  
  
Some bastard would lean back to enjoy the lingering flavor of their food in their mouth and the warm feeling of their meal in their belly while Jacob died.  
  
And Dean would  _never find him._  
  
He'd spend hours combing the place, searching with growing desperation for a person he'd sworn to protect. A guy that he'd trusted not only with his own life but Sam's as well. Someone that was in a defenseless position and who could only rely on Dean in a hostile world.  
  
He could fail Jacob and never know what had happened.  
  
With all that in mind, Dean didn't bother acknowledging the crowd as he shoved his way through.  
  
They'd live. Jacob might not.  
  
He was almost past the line when the cute cashier practically jumped in front of him, rocking him back on his heels from the surprise of being blocked off by such a tiny girl.  
  
"Sir, you need to pay to enter the dining area." For a girl that didn't even reach five and a half feet, she managed to cut an intimidating figure standing there with her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed at Dean.  
  
Aware of the angry murmurs that were starting to ripple through the crowd behind him, Dean held out his hands beseechingly as he thought fast. None of them could afford him being tossed out on his ass.  
  
"Whoa, hey," he started, taking a step back so he didn't come off as confrontational. "I'm not here to eat." He nodded towards the dining area. "A buddy of mine left his phone at my place and he's waiting on a very important call. I just need to drop it off with him and I'm outta your hair." He held up his new phone as evidence of the story and gave her his most charming smile, the one that had won over more than a few ladies in the past.  
  
Except for this one.  
  
She glared up at him, unswayed. "Our policy is anyone who enters the dining area has to pay. Unless your friend comes out here to get his phone, that's all I can do for you."  
  
"He  _can’t_  come out here, he doesn't have his --" Cutting himself off, Dean rubbed his face in aggravation. He didn't have time for this.  _Jacob_  didn't have time for this. " _Fine,_ " he snapped. "How much?"  
  
"The dinner service is twenty-seven ninety-nine, but I'll need you to step to the back of the --"  
  
Before she could finish telling him to go to the end of the line, Dean had tossed thirty bucks on the counter, making her squeak in surprise as he shoved his way past the rest of the crowd with an angry scowl.  
  
His heart dropped out again as he got a full look at the place. There were people everywhere. Crowding the buffet, walking around with their plates while they browsed for more options or stopped to grab a drink. Waitresses and busboys darted around the guests, trying to clean tables and hand out special orders on the go, restocking the napkins and placing new silverware on empty tables.  
  
 _Where the hell do I even start?_  
  
That dismaying realization forced his feet to start moving again. Every person he passed, he stared angrily down at the plates in their hands, trying to locate a tiny form in a hoodie hiding from the giants. Steaming plates of mashed potatoes and gravy passed him by, making Dean's stomach do flip flops as his mind conjured up images of the molten gravy covering up his best friend so he couldn't be  _seen_ , by Dean or anyone else. Keeping him hidden until someone spooned it into their mouths, simply swallowing it whole and not bothering to chew. Jacob could be slipping away from them that second...  
  
Dean's fist clenched, fighting back the desire to just start grabbing plates and digging around for Jacob. That would get him thrown out of the buffet for sure. He and his friends couldn't afford that, and based on the look the hostess was shooting him, he was on thin ice.  
  
 _Gotta find him, that's all that matters..._  
  
His foot protested as he sped up his gait, burning every time he leaned his weight on that leg. After this case was over, they'd all need a serious vacation away from  _everything_. Dean couldn't afford to stumble when Sam was around, and he hadn't had a chance to even  _think_  about propping up the foot, wrapping up the broken toe and relaxing.  
  
Dean scanned plates as he went, trying to catch sight of anything out of place and hiding from the world. He could only hope that Jacob's hiding place was somewhere  _he_ could find. If he couldn't locate the small hunter, this entire endeavor would go up in smoke. The restaurant would only give him so long before he was either forced to get a plate and go sit down or was forcibly ejected from the dining room.  
  
Stacks of corn and peas passed him by, steaks that smelled  _amazing_  and made even Dean's mouth water despite his urgency. His stomach grumbled loudly at him, impatient for how long it had already waited for food after being promised at least a lunch. Losing Sam and Jacob that morning had cut out breakfast and replaced it with panic, and losing everyone in the afternoon had erased any thought of lunch. Even Dean couldn't stop himself from smelling all the aromatic foods that covered the long buffet tables nearby, wishing they'd discovered this place at any other time, any other situation.  
  
He just about growled back at his stomach.  _Now is_ not _the time to think of food! We need to focus!_  
  
Of course, it just disagreed with him and growled again. Food was clearly at the top of its priorities.  
  
There were too many tables to search and Dean could feel time slipping away from his grasp. He decided to focus his efforts. He  _needed_  to focus his efforts. Blending into the crowd browsing the food bars, Dean tried for a casual saunter, replacing his panicked look with appraisal. He walked as slow as he could, scanning plates and food trays alike as he walked along. His eyes were the only part that flickered, keeping his head just casually pointed at the buffet while he 'browsed.'  
  
He leaned over the salad bar, eyes tracking through the lettuce and extras that were scattered around. There were no unexpected shadows flinching away, and no small shapes trying to run away from the looming would-be giants. Dean's stomach twisted at the thought that Jacob might  _already_  have been swatted away like a bug. His search might be in vain.  
  
He just had to hope that Jacob was still out there, surviving. If Jacob died, the trickster would have no reason to continue this  _farce_.  
  
Dean wandered through the rows of food, glancing at plates and trays alike to try and spot his best friend.  
  
 _This one's all on you._  
  
The taunting words echoed in his head as he began to lose hope. Jacob was nowhere to be seen and Dean was running out of time. He rubbed his eyes, blinking in the hot steam that rose from the buffet. A woman with a salad passed him by casually on her way to another buffet table, and a man with a steak that was almost oozing flavor accompanied by rice and potatoes and some other additions walked right in front of him.  
  
Dean paid no mind to the plates walking by, trying to ignore the smells and focus on finding Jacob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes his advent!
> 
> ... and nearly gets kicked out of the buffet before he can even start.
> 
> **Next:** May 13 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	63. Some Damn Good Food

Dean blinked again.  
  
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw something small, and black, tumble down while a tray of rice was switched out. Hope blossomed in his chest like a wildfire on a dry grassland.  
  
Dean grabbed the closest plate he could find.  
  
By the time he'd made it past a family standing in the center of the path with their children, staring around at all the choices, the attendant had just finished vigorously stirring the rice. The spoon was left in it. Dean grit his teeth at the thought of Jacob in the middle of that container, buried underneath a mountain of food.  
  
A man that had been waiting was reaching for that spoon.  
  
Before his hand landed on it, Dean managed to shove his way in, cutting off the line and sealing a firm fist around the handle. Until Jacob was out, he had no intention of letting go, no matter how rude it was. Not when a life hung in the balance.  
  
The man scowled at him. "Excuse me?"  
  
All he received in return was a dark glare. Dean's brow was shadowed as the piercing green eyes dissected the man trying to stand between him and  _saving Jacob._  
  
The man ended up just throwing up his hands and stalking away. "What's got your panties in a bunch?!" he snapped over his shoulder. Muttered grumbles about people taking rice way too seriously could be heard as he stalked away.  
  
Dean relaxed a hair. Turning back to the rice, he spotted a familiar, hoodied shape trying to crawl out from under the rice. Dean felt the guilt seeping in as he realized there was no way for him to talk to Jacob with so many possible onlookers. The hostess was still giving him the eye.  
  
 _Gotta grab Jacob, blend in, then find an out of the way place to sit so I can check on him._  
  
With that plan in mind, Dean scooped the spoon right under Jacob, putting the struggling shape dead center in the small mound. It lifted away and his stomach twisted as he saw Jacob trying to  _escape_  from him.  
  
He had no idea it was Dean.  
  
There was still no way for Dean to signal to Jacob that he was safe. A small crowd was building up while he was holding the rice. Before Jacob could try an escape attempt from the spoon with everyone watching, Dean had his plate directly underneath it, tilting it so the dark hoodie was hidden from other patrons as the rice tumbled. Just to be sure, Dean added a small bit of rice on top, burying Jacob under a layer of the white grains.  
  
 _Hang on kid, I've gotcha._  
  
A woman snapped up the spoon the instant he was done, glaring at him as she did so. Dean's eyes narrowed right back at her before he stalked away.  
  
 _I just need to blend in now..._  
  
Almost on autopilot after the relief of  _finding Jacob,_  Dean simply moved about the buffet with the single thought of  _blending in_  on his mind. Now that his best friend was safely stowed away on his plate, he needed to avoid raising suspicions, or letting anyone catch sight of the small black figure that was struggling to escape his food.  
  
The guilt continued to gnaw at him as he noticed near-invisible hands pushing at the rice from underneath. Right where  _Dean_  had dumped it in an attempt to hide him. Jacob had no idea it was him. No idea he was  _safe_ , and in no danger of being eaten. Jacob hadn't learned Morse code yet, either, so there would be no use tapping out a reassurance like with Sam.  
  
Jacob managed to struggle free of the rice and was clearly primed to dart away. Dean did the only thing he could think of that didn't involve simply grabbing him-- there was no way to know how much pressure Jacob could take if he was snatched up between giant fingers and Dean had no intention of finding out.  
  
Instead, he did a fast grab at the buffet, snapping up a steak of his own between metal tongs. He dropped it in front of Jacob, forcing him to stumble back into the rice to avoid the juicy meat. The smell of the steak made Dean's mouth water despite everything. It didn't matter how urgent his situation was, it was past five in the afternoon and none of them had eaten anything that day.  
  
He was  _starving_.  
  
The rest of the time at the buffet was spent similarly. If Jacob started to slip out, Dean would snag whatever was close, using it to wall his best friend from the edge of the plate. They couldn’t afford a mad dash for the edge now, not when Dean had finally  _found_  him again.  
  
 _Just hang on, kid._  
  
That thought was an anchor, and soon enough, the rice was surrounded by a wall of other foods, the most eclectic meal Dean had ever had. Steak and chicken, peas and rice... even a mound of mashed potatoes that loomed over the rice that he couldn't resist topping off with a bit of gravy (all in the name of blending in, of course).  
  
And the entire time, Jacob never glanced up once at the person that was holding the plate. Dean hadn't given him a reason to. There was no way to communicate with his downsized friend, and his escape attempts became more and more desperate.  
  
Until Dean decided that it was time to find a table.  
  
The hostess was finally ignoring him, so he turned away to weave his way between the other patrons to escape out into the dining hall. He'd need a seat out of sight, as far from other people as he could. Somewhere that if he was sitting there, talking to his food or himself, he wouldn't get stared at like he was crazy.  
  
The second he started to walk away, Jacob stopped trying to escape the rice. Walking away from the buffet meant there were no safe surfaces to jump down to, no way off the plate.  
  
Trapped, with no idea who held his life in their hands.  
  
Eager to get to a seat so they could finally talk, Dean tucked the plate against his stomach as he started to search for an empty booth. He did his best to minimize the amount the plate bounced in his hands. He didn't even take any notice of the way his stomach growled, knowing that food was nearby and demanding that it was time for him to eat. No, he simply walked through the hall, searching every corner. He needed to talk to Jacob as soon as possible.  
  
After five minutes of nothing, he finally spotted an out of the way area. A small booth was tucked in the darker corner, free of other families or people. Only the occasional waitress walked by. Taking his chance, his steps became more confident and forceful, striding towards an actual destination instead of the aimless wandering.  
  
He lowered the plate to the table, searching instantly for a way to get Jacob out the moment he sat down. Dean didn't want to risk digging Jacob out with his fingers, not with how fragile the inch and a half tall human was. The utensils nearby were wrapped up in a napkin, sitting innocuously alongside his plate of food. Grabbing those, Dean shredded through the napkin, immediately digging out the spoon.  
  
As careful as possible, he slipped the spoon underneath Jacob, taking him into the air along with a pile of rice. Dean swallowed nervously as he eyed the balled up shape cowering away from him.  _It's just me,_  he thought sadly, knowing full well Jacob had more than one reason to be afraid in his situation. Licking his lips, he took a deep breath to steel himself. Then...  
  
"Jacob?"  
  


* * *

  
The sound of his name spoken in familiar rumbles froze Jacob, right down to the terrified tremors. He opened his eyes again, staring at the mouth he thought he'd be trapped in by now. It was parted slightly after the word it had uttered.  
  
After blinking once or twice, Jacob realized it and the face around it were familiar.  
  
He sat bolt upright in the spoon, sending grains of rice tumbling off of him to collect in the spoon with him. His eyes darted up and found green eyes staring back at him. Familiar green eyes, full of concern and relief instead of hunger.  
  
" _Dean!_ "  
  
He'd found him. Somehow, Dean had managed to find Jacob. One person, not even bite-sized, amidst an endless array of food. A short, choked bark of a laugh escaped him at the odds, before he put his uninjured hand over his mouth. How Dean had managed to beat them was beyond Jacob.  
  
Jacob rubbed at his eyes, ignoring the vicious sting in his burned hand. He was alive. Dean had found him, and Jacob was  _safe._  
  
Dean's lips curled into a relieved smile. A grain of rice slipped from the spoon and landed in the mashed potatoes and gravy down below on the plate. All that mattered was that Jacob wasn’t balled up in a desperate attempt to avoid pain.  
  
As the simple relief of his rescue spread, Jacob sighed and some of the tension in his shoulders dropped off. He realized anew that he was suspended in the air on a spoon, and his look flattened.  
  
"Y-you scared the shit outta me, Dean!" he suddenly blurted. Whether emboldened by the knowledge that he was safe or by the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, Jacob wasn't sure. "A spoon? That's how you get my attention? A fucking  _spoon?!_  " He crossed his arms, trying to look more annoyed than he was. Jacob's tone was exasperated, relieved, and bemused all at once.  
  
"I've been dodging silverware since I got here and you pick me up in a goddamn spoon."  
  
The grain of rice that had fallen in the gravy below sank out of sight as Jacob's words sank into Dean's head.  
  
Dean gaped at the smaller hunter, indignant. "Hey! I didn't want to risk  _grabbing_  you! A spoon was the safest way to --"  
  
Dean didn't get to finish his excuse. Jacob, with his exasperated complaint hanging in the air between them, picked up a single grain of rice in his hand and chucked it across the gap at the the gigantic face that had him in its focus. It landed smack in Dean's mouth, cutting him off mid-sentence. Dean almost gagged, swallowing down the tiny grain by reflex.  
  
Empty again, Dean's mouth parted in surprise as he stared back at Jacob. Then he realized.  
  
Jacob wasn't afraid.  
  
He was barely an inch and a half tall, sitting in a giant spoon after being scooped up with a mouthful of rice, not to mention  _yelling_  at the hungry giant holding the spoon and throwing things at him...  
  
...But there wasn't an ounce of fear staring back at Dean.  
  
Annoyance, sure. Aggravation, some confusion and a huge amount of relief, but no fear.  
  
A huge smile rose to Dean's face.  
  
"So, that's how it's gonna be?" Dean asked with a fake-hurt tone, his eyebrows going right up. "Throwing rice at me. The guy who  _saved your ass._ " Dean shook his head mournfully, then smirked at Jacob.  
  
Without any warning, the spoon dropped back down to the plate, a tiny yelp broadcasting Jacob's surprise at the action. Dean tilted Jacob and his rice right back into the pile, then gave him the slightest nudge with the side of the spoon.  
  
"Better scoot, half-pint." The spoon slipped under a fresh serving of rice, lifting away from the plate.  
  
Eating the spoonful, Dean's eyes glinted mischievously back at him as he swallowed. "They made me pay  _thirty bucks_  to get in. This better be some damn good food."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based the buffet on one of my favorites growing up --> https://www.shady-maple.com/smorgasbord
> 
> The place is enormous. 
> 
> **Next:** May 16 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos keep the authors writing!


	64. Back to the Start

Jacob watched from his uneven seat on the pile of rice, his eyes wide from dropping down without any warning. He scoffed at Dean's comment and rolled his eyes. "Oh sure, dude, good point. I'd hate for you to miss out on  _thirty bucks_  for nothing." The banter came easily to him, a fact that pleased Jacob to no end despite his weariness. Any other day, any other person, and he might have been intimidated beyond belief to see a pile of rice that could hide his entire body under it disappear like that.   
  
But it was just Dean.  
  
Still, he moved to stand himself up before giving Dean an excuse to poke at him with the spoon again. Jacob had some difficulty with the mound of rice, but eventually got to his feet. The ceramic plate under his shoes was almost completely covered with portions of food taller than him, leaving him very few options for escape. Dean’s plan of walling him in had almost worked  _too_ well, unless Jacob was up for scaling pieces of food bigger than he was. His ribs twinged as if to warn him not to try any unnecessary exertion.  
  
Jacob glanced around at the eclectic mix of food on the plate. There was a narrow space between a pile of peas and some breaded chicken. He started in that direction, aiming to get off the plate with due haste since Dean was going to go ahead and have the dinner his stomach so desperately yearned for, and after listening to it growl Jacob knew all too well how hungry Dean was. There would be nothing left of the meal in no time at all.  
  
It was almost strange how cheerful it made him to not be  _part_  of that dinner, despite walking among it. His life was still strange and loomed frighteningly around him, but he was safe.  
  
Dean smirked down at him, watching the absolutely miniscule person weave his way past the peas and the chicken. It was odd to see how comfortable Jacob looked, walking through a meal that only minutes ago he’d been trying so hard to escape, but it warmed Dean’s heart to see such trust held in him again. Absently, he plucked up a piece of chicken, popping that in his mouth while he watched.  
  
Then, an idea popped in his head.  
  
If Jacob could have seen the shit-eating grin back on Dean’s face again, he might have had warning. The spoon hovered near the pile of peas, then casually knocked into them, starting a small avalanche that would block Jacob’s ‘safe’ path out of Dean’s meal. The green vegetables bounced down on both sides of Jacob, with the majority landing in front of him like a small green landslide.  
  
“I see what you mean,” Dean said with a laugh. “This is  _totally_  worth thirty bucks.”  
  
Jacob stumbled back in surprise as vegetables the size of misshapen green soccer balls tumbled around him. He looked up at Dean's face, almost directly above. That smug grin, so proud of his little prank, gave Dean away immediately. "Dude, really? What the hell?" he griped, throwing his hands up in exasperation.  
  
He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his environment, which was far less open than before. His path to the edge of the plate was blocked off by peas. It struck him that that was one of the weirdest observations he ever made.  
  
Jacob turned around to backtrack, stepping over the gigantic vegetables or kicking them aside.   
  
Dean couldn’t hold in the amusement as he watched the peas bounce out of Jacob’s path, small kicks sending them into the rice or bouncing towards the chicken. Watching Jacob try to navigate his way out from the food was better than dinner and a movie. “Hey, you want off the plate, you’ve gotta work for it,” he joked. He bumped a few of the peas out of Jacob’s path, almost appearing to be clearing the way for him, then unexpectedly shifted the spoon towards his friend.  
  
Jacob wasn't expecting it. He really thought for a second that Dean was helping clear the way for him, so he barely had time to take a surprised step back before his feet were swept out from beneath him and he toppled onto the spoon. He just barely caught himself with his hands. It was strange that he fit on the spoon so well, easily falling to the center of it.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asked in exasperation. Jacob braced his hands on the edge of the spoon as it rose up into the air again. He turned a wary look up at Dean, expecting mischief. The smirk on that massive face promised it. A smirk that outsized Jacob.  
  
Dean shifted the spoon back over to the rice. “That path didn’t really  _pan out_  for you,” he smirked, pleased with the critical look he got for the pun. “Back to the start. Better luck next time.”  
  
He tipped Jacob back into the rice, giving him a soft landing. Dean scooped up another helping of the rice. He hovered the spoon above the plate while he eyed up Jacob’s options for getting out of there without having to actually climb the food. So long as Jacob could still safely make it out on his own, the teasing could continue. “Better watch your step,” he said with a gleam in his eye before popping the spoon in his mouth again. He savored it for a second this time. After barely eating most of the week, he was starved. Now that he had Jacob’s trust back, it was like his mind was finally letting him enjoy food again without worrying about scaring his friend.  
  
Even though Jacob was pretty much  _in_  his food. They'd had a weird week.  
  
Dean swallowed, then tapped his lips consideringly. “Hm. Needs soy sauce,” he decided. “A bit more flavor.”  
  
Jacob squirmed to push himself upright again after watching more of the stupid rice vanish high above. It was a tough endeavor when everything under him kept shifting around from his movements (or from a good portion of it being scooped away). When he was finally upright again he sent Dean a flat look, pursing his lips.   
  
 _Back to the start._    
  
It was now a game of Jacob vs. Dean, and by the cheeky puns Dean wouldn't be letting Jacob win without some effort. Jacob almost chuckled at how  _ridiculous_  it was, but kept up the annoyed act. Encouraging Dean would only get him in more trouble.  
  
"Oh yeah, soy sauce is a great idea, I'll just get off this plate and go find you some," he quipped, getting to his feet again off the dwindling pile of rice. Since his first path was blocked by peas now, he edged around looking for another way to the side.  
  
He spotted the edge beyond the chicken strips and went for it, moving at a quicker pace before the spoon returned. He ducked underneath a piece of chicken, breathing a terse sigh from the heat still wafting off of it.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry,” Dean said. “I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.” He plucked the chicken from the plate to reveal the hiding spot. There was no way Dean was going to let him disappear on a plate of  _food_  of all places, during dinner, whether he'd done it on purpose or not.   
  
It was  _weird_  to think of his food being riddled with hiding places for Jacob. At least the kid was finally safe for a minute.  
  
“I think I’ll be taking care of all the heavy lifting for now. Unless you’ve got a semi your size to help you haul that bottle across the table.” He snapped up the chicken strip the moment he had eyes on Jacob again. Leaning his elbow on the table, he propped up his head, simply watching Jacob go for a minute while he finished chewing the chicken.  
  
It was so strange to be walking among giant food. Jacob could remember how the very idea left him downright shaking before. Terrified of going unnoticed and being swallowed up along with the meal. Now, he was casually walking around chicken tenders the size of couches. They were just in the way. Jacob knew for certain he wasn't in danger of going unnoticed on this plate.  
  
He used his good hand to brace himself as he hopped over one last piece of chicken, putting the edge of the plate in sight. A satisfied grin came to his face. He'd made it to the edge while Dean was preoccupied with his food. And here he'd thought it'd be more of a challenge. Jacob trudged up the slight incline to the rim of the dish, and stepped off carefully.  
  
And promptly landed on a spoon that darted under him seemingly from nowhere.  
  
Jacob let out a groan of surprise, falling to his knees on the silvery bowl. "Dean!" he complained, looking over his shoulder at the smug look above.  
  
Dean gave him an innocent expression right back. "What?" he asked. He held up the spoon for a minute while he talked so Jacob didn't have to stare straight up. "You didn't think it would be  _that_  easy, did you?" He cocked an eyebrow at his friend, smugness overcoming his innocent demeanour again. "You'll have to do better than that if you want off of my plate, half-pint."  
  
He moved Jacob back over to the rice, letting the little guy tumble off the spoon once more. This time, Dean took a serving of peas, grimacing before he ate it. He made a face as he swallowed. "Sam will be proud of you," he commented dryly. "You kept making a break for it at the buffet so I kept having to grab whatever food was closest." He shuddered. "At least it wasn't salad. But now I've got all this rabbit food to get through. Can't let it go to waste." After years living week to week with John, it was ingrained into his head to never waste any food, the same way it ingrained in Sam's. Two completely different living situations growing up had resulted on the same outlook.  
  
He jabbed the spoon in Jacob's direction. "Speaking of, you've eaten as much as me this week. I'm not the only one that's starving at this table. You might want to grab a bite while you're down there."  
  
Jacob paused his efforts to escape the pile of rice  _yet again_  to glance up at Dean. The stern look on the face above surprised him and he raised his eyebrows. That spoon was pointed at him, the long silver utensil wobbling slightly in Dean's grip. The reminder prompted Jacob's stomach to yowl at him, as insistently as he'd ever heard it. All of the terror and confusion of the day had pushed it out of mind since he woke up that morning in a doll's crib, but Jacob was hungry.  
  
He glanced down at the pile of rice he currently sat on. Each grain of mildly seasoned rice was longer than his hand. Jacob scooted off the rice pile once more and nabbed a single grain, giving it a try. Dean was right; the stuff lacked flavor despite the smell of the seasoning on it. Or, perhaps, Jacob was desensitized to it thanks to spending so much time in the stuff.  
  
Which, of course, only kept happening as Dean's cheeky antics brought Jacob right back to the center of the plate.  
  
"There, see,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I'm eating," Jacob turned to try a new path off the plate. He went between the steak and the pile of mashed potatoes this time, keeping clear of the gravy. If he bumped that, he could get stuck. Knowing Dean, Jacob would be helped out immediately only to  _never_  hear the end of it. He was careful when he swiped some of the gravy onto his bland piece of rice to give it some flavor.  
  
"What was that about rabbit food?" Jacob quipped, pausing to look up again while nodding pointedly at the steak next to him. He remembered that steak being placed in his path, scaring him back into hiding in the rice with its sudden appearance. The huge serving of beef still radiated heat and aroma.  
  
"I don't know about you, but if I tried to eat an entire meal of rice and peas and potatoes, my stomach would never forgive me," Dean scoffed. He tapped the steak lightly on top, making some of the juice inside leak out, spreading out on the ground where Jacob was walking. Jacob took a shuffling step backwards to avoid having the liquid wash over his shoes, sending a poignant glare up at Dean that was ignored. "I'm just saving it, since I'm betting you don't want to be close by when I cut it up." His stomach grumbled at the sight of the juicy meat.  
  
"In fact," Dean went on. "If you manage to get off my plate, I  _guess_  I can letcha have some. Since a crumb will fill you up and all that."  
  
He tapped his spoon in front of Jacob, cutting off the exit from the plate with a smooth metallic wall. Between the spoon, the steak, and the mountain of potatoes next to Jacob, there was no way to go but back to the center. "You'll have to find another way though. Looks like this one's blocked."  
  
Jacob had barely turned around to stalk back to the rice when another shadow fell over the table. Dean jumped slightly. He tilted the spoon down, blocking Jacob from sight while trying not to knock him off his feet. Jacob ducked down, frozen and hoping the source of that shadow didn't linger.  
  
"Excuse me, sir," a pretty young waitress smiled.  _Oh dammit, no._  In one hand she balanced a tray of drinks, both sodas and waters for her tables. "I must have missed you coming in. Did you want anything to drink?"  
  
Dean forced himself to ignore her inviting smile and the way she held herself so that the curve of her hips and back was easy to notice, enticing him towards thoughts of other places he could be. Instead, he focused on the metal utensil in his hands and the thought that Jacob was helpless if she caught sight of him.  
  
"Just a water is fine," he answered back in a deep rumble, a far more powerful voice than he wanted to use around Jacob. Hidden under the spoon, Jacob could still hear the gist of the thundering conversation just fine despite covering one ear with his free hand.  
  
She bobbed her head, leaning down to place one of the waters she was carrying in front of him. Dean couldn't help but notice the way the charm necklace she wore swung slowly away from her collarbone, a glittery little pendulum drawing his eyes very purposefully in a certain direction. While she was leaning, she asked, "Where's your friend? I heard you up front when you got in. You caused quite a ruckus. Probably the most excitement we'll have here all year."  
  
 _You have no idea,_  Dean thought grimly to himself. With her so close, he tilted the spoon down even further, in no position to see what had happened to Jacob while she was there, but knowing he couldn't take any chances.  
  
"He never made it," Dean said out loud, a prayer in the back of his mind that she wouldn't look to the side. Even just a glimpse of the black-hoodied shape under the spoon could send her into panic mode about bugs infesting the restaurant. "And since I had to pay to get in, I figured why waste good money?" He shrugged, then glanced at his cooling food with a mournful gaze. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."  
  
"Oh! Of course!" The girl hurriedly straightened, brushing off her apron. She almost sullenly flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder. "If you need anything, just give Lissa a call, okay hon?"  
  
Dean nodded and she took her leave at last. He let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding, then straightened his spoon to see what had become of Jacob. "Jacob, you okay?" Dean called.  
  
Jacob straightened from the compressed crouch he'd been forced into by the spoon. He shook a bit of mashed potato off his hand. When he'd lowered himself down, his hand had landed right in the starchy stuff by mistake. "I'm fine," he answered, getting the last of the potatoes off his hand with his mouth before brushing it on his jeans. He felt like his whole body thanked him profusely for the food. Even his headache begrudgingly subsided.  
  
"But that poor girl, I think you broke her heart, Dean," he teased, getting to his feet. Jacob glanced behind. The spoon still lingered in his path, a concave metal wall with a very warped reflection in it. Jacob rolled his eyes and began stalking back towards the center of the plate again.   
  
So much for that route.  
  
While he sought out another avenue to the edge of the plate, Jacob's mind finally took stock of some of his injuries. His hand stung fiercely despite the ragged strip of t-shirt fabric wrapping it up. He'd need to ice it soon. He was mostly hungry, but Jacob was in desperate need of some water, too. He'd need to get both from that glass of water, tall enough to be several stories high and with condensation droplets racing down the sides. Jacob watched one such droplet fall out of sight before getting back to the task at hand.  
  
That task, of course, being to get off the stupid plate before Dean just dumped him in rice again. Jacob inched around to the other side of the steak, thinking to try his luck over there instead.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and started on his potatoes while Jacob was trying his luck in another direction. The food was starting to call his name more than his joking game, and he had an inkling Jacob would be feeling the same. The waitress appearing was a not-so-subtle reminder that Jacob was vulnerable on that plate if anyone but Dean was around.  
  
The gravy covering the top of the mashed potatoes started to leak into the center of the plate as he took a bite, freed by his casual scoop. A few rice grains that had scattered from the pile by Jacob's movements were pushed back towards the main body as the gravy filled in the empty space.   
  
"Hopefully she recovers from the crushing disappointment of missing out on the amazing Dean Winchester," Dean said smugly. "Any other week, I'd have to make the most of all this good luck with women. Right now, though... there's a few other things on my mind. I'll just have to carry on, I guess." He poked the spoon at the peas again, making a few more tumble towards Jacob. Couldn't let Jacob get off  _that_  easy, after all.  
  
Jacob rolled his eyes yet again, both at Dean's antics and at his mournful words. "Sorry to cut in on your action," he said with a chuckle, stepping over some peas to continue on his way. He kept a closer watch over his shoulder this time, making sure he knew where that damn spoon was with every step he took.  
  
Dean was more preoccupied with his food, so after the latest torrent of peas Jacob was able to make it to the edge of the plate unbothered. He glanced back and pointedly waited until the spoon was occupied with a scoop of potatoes before crouching and climbing down to the tabletop. "Made it," he said with both satisfaction and relief.  
  
He sat down with a huff on the torn napkin, all but forgotten once the silverware was freed from it. Jacob noticed, now that he wasn't surrounded by the smell of flavorful food, that his jacket (and probably the rest of him) smelled just like the seasoned rice.  _I probably taste like it too._  If it had been anyone else but Dean carrying that plate...  
  
"Hey, Dean," he said, distracting himself from imagined dangers with actual concerns. Jacob's thumb of his uninjured hand brushed gingerly over the wrapped palm of the other. "Mind giving me a piece of ice from that glass there?" He waved his hand lightly even though Dean probably couldn't see the tiny limb. "Burned myself a little while I was over there browsing."  
  
Dean leaned forward, trying to catch sight of the miniscule hand Jacob was holding up. His eyebrows scrunched together in concern. "We'll need to get you some burn cream back at the room," he decided. He fished out an ice cube from his glass, placing it down next to Jacob. The cube, one of the smaller ones he had, was almost as big as Jacob himself. "Right after we're done here we'll stop in, put you back together, then head out to get the others back. I think we've got an address now. I didn't have time to really look when I ran out the door to find you."  
  
He turned his attention to other matters. "But neither of us will do them any good if we fall over from starving ourselves. And I think you earned a reward from escaping dinner at last."   
  
Dean picked up the steak knife he'd discarded when grabbing his spoon. Sawing in, he separated out an almost microscopic portion that was probably still way too big for Jacob, but no one ever complained about having too much food, especially when the food was pretty much crumbs otherwise. That was placed on the other side of Jacob, along with one of the peas Dean had tossed at the kid. To finish it off, Dean grabbed the other set of utensils from the opposite side of the table, discarding the fork and knife and using the clean spoon to scoop out some water for Jacob. It was way, way too big, but there weren't many options going around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean turns into the world's biggest dork, and Jacob can't resist the big lug.
> 
> For all that are worried, no, they did not forget about the other two. But they are exhausted and starving, and Dean will do no one any good if he can't stand on his own two feet to throw a punch, going up against another human.
> 
> **Next:** May 20 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos keep a writer writing!


	65. A Familiar Face

Jacob was almost overwhelmed by everything being laid around him so fast. The cut of steak, so small to Dean, was about two servings worth to Jacob. Not to mention the pea, which was like a big green basketball. Jacob's stomach began to wonder why he hadn't grabbed them both yet, but he turned his attention to the block of ice that was already melting into the napkin nearby. First things first.  
  
He winced and hissed quietly in pain when he undid the hasty wrapping around his hand. He didn't look at it, choosing instead to turn his palm towards the ice immediately. The open air stung the wound like he was burning it again. Wasting no time, Jacob placed his hand on the surface of the ice.  
  
"Fuck, that's the best," he said with a satisfied sigh. His hand and sleeve were soaked in minutes but Jacob didn't care. He waited until his arm was numb before removing his hand and carefully wrapping it again. His fingers on the burned hand were so numb he could hardly move them, but at least the burn was sated for a moment.  
  
Next, Jacob helped himself to the water, scooped up in his free hand since he didn't have a cup. The cool liquid sent a refreshing cool sensation spidering through his veins, a welcome feeling after so long on the literally boiling buffet table. He took several more handfuls of water before he was done.  
  
He picked up the steak, knowing he was forced to be a bit messy by the fact that the extra fork was about four or five times his length. He took a bite of it and raised his eyebrows appreciatively, while his stomach practically rejoiced to have substantial food in it. Jacob couldn't be happier that he didn't have to listen to a giant stomach growling anymore. After all their trials, he trusted Dean, but that was unsettling no matter  _who_  it was. He could only hope he didn’t make his small friends (when they were smaller than him) uneasy like that.  
  
"Wow, only thirty bucks for all that," Jacob teased, gesturing to the plate covered in mountains of food compared to himself. "That's a steal, Dean."  
  
Dean shot him a withering glance, then turned back to his food. “I would have grabbed more but I had a certain hunter taking residence in the center…” he said wryly as he dug into his steak. He could  _finally_  sit there and enjoy his food.  
  
Once he started, his own eyebrows went up appreciatively, unknowingly imitating Jacob’s hard to see expression. No wonder there was such a crowd here. The steak, especially for a slab of meat he’d grabbed off a buffet table, was  _good_. That was all he needed to really dig into the meal at last. He only flashed Jacob an occasional glance, just making sure the kid was there. The last thing they needed was any more teleporting pranks, especially with the number of injuries Jacob had received in only a few days. Dean hadn’t even noticed the injured hand the entire time Jacob was sitting in the spoon. They’d definitely need to take care of that before anything else. The kid was fragile enough, they didn’t need him getting worse.  
  
Dean’s spoon clicked against the bottom of the plate as he tried to scoop the last bit of potatoes, rice and gravy onto it. He chewed slowly, trying to draw out the end of his meal. Despite a decent sized plate, he couldn’t help eyeing up the buffet a few dozen feet away. After everything, the plate he’d just about finished seemed paltry compared to what the restaurant had to offer.  
  
Jacob noticed the way Dean cleaned his plate, trying to leave nothing to waste. Jacob might have had the same strategy with his own food, but the portions were simply too much to finish on his own. Hell, his  _stomach_  was smaller than the portions he’d been given. The steak and the pea he'd been so graciously rewarded for his plate-escaping prowess were sitting nearby, probably looking hardly nibbled from Dean's perspective. Jacob had scooted away on the napkin, since the melting ice cube soaked the spot he started in.  
  
"You should get yourself another plate," Jacob suggested mildly, pushing himself to his feet. He glanced over at the salt and pepper shakers. There was enough space concealed behind them to serve as a bedroom for him at this scale. "You've been running all over the place, dude. I'll hide behind those things over there," he nodded towards the condiments, "and maybe now you won't have to get so much 'rabbit food.’ "  
  
Dean glanced back at him in surprise, eyes tracking immediately to Jacob’s chosen hiding place. He had to admit, it was certainly somewhere that a curious passerby wouldn’t be able to spot Jacob without leaning very far into the booth. “You sure about that?” Dean asked, starting to strip off his jacket so he could leave it to ‘claim’ his spot, since he didn’t  _technically_  have someone sitting there to save his seat.  
  
He tossed the jacket on the bench, standing in his flannel shirt. “There anything you want me to grab while I’m over there?” Dean asked as he straightened his sleeves, then winced when his foot splintered with pain when he shifted weight on it.   
  
Jacob paused in mid-turn, looking back across the vast distance to the buffet tables. Steam rose from the pans over there, creating an innocent and inviting heat haze. He knew better. That was a death trap. Dean would face no dangers going over to those tables to browse, being the right size for the world around them. Jacob had no idea the scope of what the buffet had to offer, but he didn't feel like getting close enough to find out.  
  
"Nah. I'm good," he answered, waving Dean away. "Couldn't finish my first servings."  
  
Dean watched patiently as Jacob made his way behind the salt to hide. Once he was certain his friend was out of sight, he grabbed his dirty plate, dropping it on one of the cleaning carts the busboy was pushing around so there was even less reason for anyone to stop at his table.  
  
Precautions taken, Dean made his way back to the buffet. A slight hitch in his step belied his injury. As long as he was focused on the problem, like finding Jacob, he couldn’t even tell it was broken, but the moment the panic had ended (aside from the buzzing worry for Sam in the back of his head, they  _would_  find him), the adrenaline faded and the pain came rushing right back.  
  
He didn’t spend long browsing, knowing that every second he was away disaster could befall Jacob. He constantly glanced over at the corner his seat was in, making sure there was no one coming close. There was a burning paranoia in his bones, one that was usually pushed down, out of thought, by the reassuring weight of Sam in his pocket or sitting on his shoulder. With that absence, his thoughts were screaming at him. When they finished refueling, they had the next goal in mind.  
  
Dean grabbed a clean plate, immediately grabbing a rack of ribs. Another steak, this one a little smaller, a slice of their ‘homecooked’ meatloaf to go along with them… then his eyes trailed over to the dessert bar. A smile came over his face when he saw the slices of pie they had on display.  _Hell, yeah,_  he thought to himself.  
  
Snagging a slice of pie, Dean made a beeline straight back to his booth, wasting no time sitting down and putting his plates on the table. Worriedly, he picked up the salt to check on Jacob. “Still in once piece, half-pint?”

[Art by mogadeer!](https://mogadeer.deviantart.com/art/com-Salt-Shaken-559212064)

Jacob flinched and looked straight up as the salt shaker lifted away. He would have to really strain to push that thing, and that was if he could even make it budge. A very big if. He walked back towards his place on the napkin, subconsciously avoiding the shadow of the salt shaker hovering overhead.  
  
"Just the same as I was when you left," Jacob said reassuringly, settling himself down next to his spoon of water once more as the salt shaker was lowered back down. He took a drink, glad to find the water was still refreshingly cold.  _Still in one piece. One really tiny piece._  
  
"And how about you?" he asked, tilting his head back so he could watch Dean's face. He was certain he'd seen a wince of pain earlier. He tried to think of everything that had happened, but Jacob couldn't remember Dean sustaining any injuries. It had to have happened while Jacob was disappeared off somewhere else or something. "You looked like someone kicked you in the shin earlier. Doing alright?"  
  
Dean paused as he was reaching for his utensils, a slight flush rising to his face as he recalled what had happened to his foot.  _How_  he'd broken it.  
  
He owed Jacob an answer, though.  
  
"I, ah... broke a toe," Dean admitted, meeting Jacob's eyes. Or at least trying to, since Jacob was too small for Dean to read his expression. "The other night. I was stupid and kicked the beers on the ground."  
  
Dean rubbed his neck, remembering all too well why he'd kicked them. How much it had hurt.  _I deserved worse after the shit I pulled,_  he thought to himself.  
  
"It's not that bad," Dean went on gamely. "I only notice when I'm not running around, and this week hadn't given us time for that at all."  
  
Now that Jacob thought about it, he hadn't seen anything of those beers since well before he fell into Dean's cup. Wherever they’d been kicked to, they probably got lost in some shadow, completely forgotten. It was probably a good thing. Picturing the label of the local brew was all it took for Jacob to clench his jaw as the tension in his shoulders increased, building walls against memories that wanted to overwhelm him and send him to a corner, curled up and shut out from the world.  
  
Thanks to all of the beer that had choked down his throat, Jacob truly didn't remember much about what Dean did the other night. In his memory, it was like his friend had vanished for a short time, replaced by a faceless titan that had nearly eaten Jacob alive. Afterwards, Jacob was lying down and fading fast while Sam and Bowman looked after him. He wasn't eaten; they weren't going to  _let_  him be eaten, Sam going so far as to stay by his side the entire night.  
  
Deep breath. Jacob was safe. He'd just navigated on a plate full of Dean's dinner without meeting any danger. He was safe. The memories scratched at the walls he put up, but could not get past them this time.  
  
Knowing more about what happened, and knowing  _who_  had caused it, Jacob scowled faintly. There was guilt all over Dean's face,  hidden in his eyes and the set of his jaw. Jacob hadn't realized how hard it was for Dean to completely hide that guilt when every detail of his face was glaringly obvious to Jacob's small eyes. He wondered if Sam could read people this well, too. The small guy was incredibly perceptive, especially when it came to reading Dean, of all people. Jacob may have found his secret at last.  
  
"Well alright then," Jacob answered with a short laugh. If he were big enough, he'd want to give those fucking beers a good kick, too. He used to like that brand, but Jacob doubted he'd ever want a drop of it again. "Fuck those beers. When this is all over you can put some ice on that and just bum around for a bit." They could all use it.  
  
Dean nodded, incredibly relieved that Jacob didn't flip out from the reminder. The last thing he ever wanted to do was remind his best friend about what had almost happened to him, or force him to relive it in flashbacks.  _It didn't happen and it's not going to. I'll make sure of it,_  Dean told himself firmly. Jacob was with him and there was no way he'd let anything happen to him.  
  
"When this is over, we'll  _all_  need a chance to bum around," Dean replied. "I can finally take a look at those injuries of yours." He might not be trained as a doctor, but after years of hunting, he'd had to stitch himself up more than once. In his line of work, the hospital wasn't often an option.  
  
He turned his attention back to his dinner, knowing they needed to finish up and head out. Jacob was injured far more than him, and they needed to find Sam and Bowman. He dug right into his meal, wasting no time.  
  
Jacob waited patiently while Dean finished his food. Occasionally he took another sip of water from the spoon next to him, and he put his burned hand on the last sliver of the ice cube before it melted away. Putting some kind of salve on it was beginning to sound more and more appealing.  
  
Tucked away in the corner booth like they were, it was as secluded as they could get. Even so, Jacob couldn't help but glance up when someone walked near the closest tables. Other enormous people still milled around in the vast restaurant, after all, and the only person there who wouldn't be hostile or careless with Jacob was already sitting in the booth.  
  
It wouldn't hurt to be too watchful, after everything he'd gone through. Jacob had learned the hard way that one second of lost focus could make all the difference. He tried not to be on edge, and he trusted Dean not to let anyone catch sight of him, but Jacob's instincts clamored for attention.  
  
A very loud clattering sounded out when a cart of plates stacked too high bumped a table and sent some of the dishes toppling. The hum of constant conversation in the room only flickered for a second as people paused to hear the noise before continuing with their meals unconcerned.  
  
Jacob couldn't help a jolt from the immense noise, and his hands were halfway to his ears before he realized what had happened. The clattering was over with already. He covered his flinch with a chuckle. "Oh man. It's just not a nice night out 'til some poor waiter breaks something."  
  
Dean watched the cleanup in the middle of the dining area with wary eyes, gauging any danger to them with expert eyes. He absently speared his last bite of steak while he watched. He was almost full, but definitely had some room saved for the pie.  
  
Turning back to his food once the mess was clean, he was about to reach for the dessert plate, then stiffened.  
  
Sitting directly across from Dean in the booth was a familiar smirk with a lollipop in his mouth. He was still wearing his uniform from the Gas 'n Sip, one arm casually stretched out along the back of his own seat. The trickster crunched his candy right as Dean laid eyes on him, flicking away the empty stick as he straightened.  
  
"Miss me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's baaaaaack!
> 
> The end grows near.
> 
>  **Next:** May 23 rd 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	66. The Food is to Die For

"You son of a bitch," Dean growled. "You've got some nerve, showing your face here."  
  
The trickster rolled his eyes. "Oh please, Dean-O. You and I both know that you're not about to open fire in a restaurant full of civilians. And staking me is out of the question. You left that back at the room, remember? I'm just here to congratulate you. After all, you managed to pull this one out of your ass and pass the test!" He gave a slow clap, eyes trained right on Dean.  
  
Jacob got to his feet hastily. The discarded stick from the lollipop still crunching in the trickster's enormous teeth lay inches from him. He'd hardly even realized the trickster appeared until that had crashed down nearby, big as a lamp post to him.  
  
Every time those gigantic hands slapped together with a percussive boom, Jacob flinched. He backed warily towards Dean, never taking his eyes off the powerful hands. The force behind those claps was clearly lazy, noncommittal. It was a bored, condescending gesture that would still flatten Jacob in an instant and extinguish his life with no effort. The unsettling sight drove his retreat along, despite knowing he couldn't really escape.  
  
He found himself in a defensive stance closer to the edge of the table than before, taking refuge in Dean's shadow. He mulled over the trickster's words.  
  
"He 'passed the test?’ And if he didn't what would ..." Jacob trailed off. He knew the answer to that question. He'd have died, alone and lost to his friends. The trickster had left him an out in every other trial, but this one ... there was no way Jacob would have survived on his own.  
  
The trickster smirked and leaned in closer to Jacob, who tensed and leaned back. “Lessons don’t stick unless we play for keeps,” he reminded him. He sat back up, ignoring the way Dean’s hand now hovered over Jacob and cast a protective shadow. “But you did it! And now you get to relax and celebrate, at least until the next test comes up. After all, Dean’s not the only one here that had lessons to learn.” He winked. “We’ve got to see what little Jakey learned after all this.”  
  
“ ‘Another test?’ ” Dean growled out. “What do you mean…”  
  
“Ah, but that would be telling, now, wouldn’t it?” The trickster swallowed down the remains of his lollipop. “How did you know that apple pie was my favorite?”  
  
With a wave, Dean’s pie vanished, appearing right in front of the trickster. He picked up a fork with a grin. “You definitely know the best foods to get at a buffet, Dean-O. I should come with you more often. But…” he stared down at the pie for a minute. “Y’know what every slice of pie needs?” Without waiting for Dean to respond, he wiggled his eyebrows. “A cherry. But since you forgot to get me one, I guess I’ll just have to improvise.”  
  
With a grandiose wave, Jacob vanished from underneath Dean’s hand. A dollop of whipped cream appeared on the pie, and Jacob suddenly tumbled down on top of it with a startled, disoriented gasp as he reappeared. Dean stiffened, absolute fury glinting in his eyes at the sight of Jacob being toyed with again.

[Artwork by mogadeer!](https://mogadeer.deviantart.com/art/com-Pie-sitting-559384732)  
  
Jacob frowned deeply in confusion and struggled against the substance he found himself in, unable to recognize it at first. The overwhelming smell of sugar and  _apples_ , however, dropped ice into his stomach.  
  
“So cute you could just  _eat him up,_ ” the trickster taunted. Jacob looked up, the dreaded comment already playing on repeat in his mind, and watched, frozen, as a fork with tines as long as his body stabbed into the gigantic pie and tore away a piece, which then vanished into a huge mouth above.   
  
 _Directly_  above.  
  
The trickster bit down on his piece of pie and smirked again. “I heard the pie here is just to  _die_  for.”  
  
That really did Jacob in. His heart fluttered in his chest like a caged bird, terrified beyond belief. He was stuck in  _food_  again. He couldn't pull himself free, and the person looming overhead sported a smirk that set Jacob's fears screaming in his head.  
  
 _Don't eat me!_  
  
The thrum of conversation in the room muffled away as the white noise of fear crescendoed in Jacob's head. He wasn't  _safe_  here. He may have spent several minutes walking among food without fear before, but that was because he trusted  _Dean._  The trickster had earned nothing but fear from Jacob, and it only combined with the fear he'd learned of being stuck in some titan's food.  
  
All he could see was the fork in that huge hand, and the smirk on that huge face. His breathing sped up and no matter how much air he sucked in, he couldn’t feel any relief as the fear overwhelmed him.  _Don’t-_  
  
Without warning, Dean shot a hand out. Jacob was swept off the top of the dessert along with the majority of the whipped cream. Back into a safe grasp. “Over my dead body,” Dean growled out, holding the hand close to his chest. With his other hand, he blocked Jacob from sight as he tried to wipe off the whipped cream with a careful finger.  
  
“What?” the trickster said with a surprised look. “I was just trying out the game you two were playing a few minutes ago! It looked like fun.” He took another bite of the pie, “Mmm”-ing at the taste. “You hunters are two of a kind, that’s for sure.”  
  
“What do you want?” Dean snapped, at the end of his rope.  
  
Eyebrows up, the trickster wagged a finger at Dean. “Just congratulating you. Soon Jacob gets his own test, and we get to see if he finally gets to go back to being a moose.”  
  
Despite the heat radiating off of Dean's hands, Jacob shivered. He was chilled by the warning of yet more trials, and chilled by his most recent brush with being on a giant plate. It was almost as bad as being stuck in the rice before he knew it was Dean walling him in. Helpless, stuck until a fork or a spoon would come and claim him for the only destination that awaited everything on the plate.  
  
Congratulating Dean. So his lessons were learned, at least as far as the trickster had decided. Jacob wasn't sure what else  _he_  was supposed to learn. He was getting more perspective in a few days than he ever anticipated. He'd come so close to dying specifically because of his tremendous disadvantages at this size. What else could he possibly take away from that?  
  
Unless dying was his lesson, Jacob wasn't sure how he could succeed. He was just too  _small_  to keep this up forever.  
  
"So, what," Jacob asked, weary and exasperated at the same time. "You about to snap your fingers again and send me off somewhere else?"  
  
“No,” the trickster said shortly. This time, his tone of voice switched back to serious. “I don’t have to. You’ll face this lesson no matter what I do. So… good luck. I’ll see you on the other side. Or not. This one’s gonna be all on  _you_.”  
  
With that, he vanished, along with the pie and the fork. All that was left of him was the empty plate with a few crumbs sitting along the edge. No snap of his fingers for a warning; he was merely gone like he’d never been there.  
  
Dean stiffened and glanced suspiciously around his table. “Bastard,” he muttered, wishing more than ever that they’d encountered that smirking trickster somewhere with no other witnesses. Even if the gun didn’t do anything against the jackass, at least  _he’d_  feel better.  
  
With their enemy gone and no sign he’d be coming back, Dean sighed. He lifted up his hand to check on Jacob after the fast grab, green eyes scanning the tiny body up and down. “You alright there, kid?” he asked worriedly. “I didn’t bang you up more, did I?”  
  
Jacob stared blankly up at the concerned green eyes, not seeing them for a moment. His thoughts were still stumbling over what the trickster told him before vanishing. Jacob would be facing a lesson soon no matter what. He could only assume it'd have something to do with getting Sam and Bowman back, but that could be anything. Jacob had no idea what they were going into; his only assurance was that everything would be far bigger than was fair, and that if that burglar got a hold of him, it'd be all over.  
  
"Huh? Oh, no, you didn't," Jacob finally answered, coming back to Dean's question when he noticed how worried the huge face before him actually was. He brushed whipped cream off his sleeve with a hand, giving it a disgusted look. "I was actually cushioned by this stuff," he said truthfully. The rapid motion aside, Jacob couldn't complain about the fast grab. Even if Dean  _had_  jostled him too hard, it was infinitely preferable to being stuck in the path of a fork.  
  
"Good," Dean said, relieved. He wiped away more of the whipped cream, trying to get it off Jacob without touching the smaller guy. "Since dessert was interrupted, I think it's time for us to head out, anyway. Sam and Bowman are out there, and we've got to find them before anything else happens."  
  
He grabbed one of the shredded napkins he'd decimated, wetting an edge and offering it to Jacob to get at least some of the stick off. "You think you're up to hang out in the chest pocket? Without Sam around, I think that'll be the best way for me to, y'know, keep track of you." He felt a bit of guilt again, remembering all the times Jacob had been in danger in his pockets. He was just too small to be able to safely hitch a ride with him.  
  
Jacob got the worst of the sugary covering off of himself, resolving to do a better job when he had an actual container of water he could safely climb into. Dean's water glass was so far out of the question it might as well not exist. Still, Dean was right. They needed to move quickly to find the others. He could only hope that, if the man planned to make some money off Sam and Bowman, he'd avoid hurting them.  
  
Jacob eyed the pocket on the front of Dean's shirt carefully. He knew he'd be impossible to notice there, against the backdrop of someone so immense, but it really was a better bet, considering his previous luck in the jacket's side pockets. He nodded. "Yep, I'll give it a try." At the very least, he knew for a fact that he could grip the fibers of the pocket with ease. Jacob could try to steady himself if Dean's gait rocked too much.  
  
"Okay then. Just... hold on." With his other hand, Dean pinched open his pocket, propping it open between two fingers. He kept the flap out of the way so he'd be able to see in, at least while Jacob was getting settled. That way, there wouldn't be any mistakes because he couldn't feel if Jacob was on his hand or not.  
  
With that set, Dean lifted up the hand with Jacob. He slid in two fingers, making sure they reached all the way to the bottom. He wanted to try and make it as easy as he could on Jacob after what he'd gone through at the buffet.  
  
Jacob took Dean's advice to heart. His fingers sank into the ridges of the callused skin he sat on, keeping a solid grip to avoid tumbling before he was ready, and scooted forward carefully, slipping himself into the pocket. When he passed the edge of it, he noticed the general din of the restaurant muffling as the sound bounced away from the pocket.  
  
Once he'd climbed to the bottom as quickly as he could, Jacob turned his face straight up. He could  _feel_  the thump of Dean's heart plodding along next to him. With his fingers threaded into the fabric around him, Jacob took a seat and nodded. "Alright, man, I'm as ready as I will ever be,” he quipped, grinning to show he was joking. “Let's get going, already,"   
  
Dean let out a small laugh. "Right." He lifted his hand out of the pocket and peered in one last time. "This shouldn't be for long." He let the pocket close up and the flap drop.  
  
Unlike when Sam sat in there, the outside of the pocket was flat. Nothing would give away that an entire person was hiding in there, keeping out of sight for his own good.  
  
Dean grabbed his jacket, throwing it back over his shoulders and leaving it open so there wasn't any extra weight on Jacob. He tossed a five on the table for a tip, still sore that he'd had to pay to save his best friend's life.   
  
 _At least the food was good,_  he consoled himself.  
  
He nodded at Lissa as he left and avoided catching the glare of the cashier, who was continuing to run a massive line. Her eyes bored into his back.  _Of all people to be immune to my charm,_  he rued in the back of his mind.  
  
A cool breeze greeted him as he pushed open the door to the outside. Night had crept up, casting the world's in deep shadows. Sticking his hands in his pockets, Dean walked briskly to where he'd left the Impala. Coming into this restaurant, he'd had no idea if he'd ever see Jacob again. Coming out, Jacob was safe in his pocket. Now it was time to find Sam and Bowman. After that, they could focus on hunting that trickster down. They had a way to kill him and a face on the bastard.  
  
Dean had to wonder if the trickster had done that on purpose. Make sure that Dean was the only one to see him, then save Dean for last in his fucked up dream sequences.  
  
The warehouse where he'd left the Impala soon came into view. Dean smiled and felt some of his tension seep away. "A sight for sore eyes," he murmured as he opened up the door and slid in. "It won't be much longer, Jacob."  
  
The classic black car pulled out of the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot how much fun I had writing the Trickster.
> 
> **Next:** May 27 rd 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	67. Family Don't End with Blood

With the car in motion and Dean no longer walking, Jacob slumped into the corner of the pocket. He'd done his best for the short trek out of the restaurant, but every step Dean took translated all the way up his great height, and caused the chest pocket to bounce. What might have been negligible to Sam or Bowman, a background swaying that didn't affect them much, became obvious to Jacob. He wasn't jostled around, but he definitely felt each jolt as the pocket moved and settled in time with the titanic steps.  
  
At least the pocket didn't have as much room for Jacob to go sprawling. He could settle himself into a corner and grasp the weave of the fabric and pretend it was a hammock. The heartbeat to one side shook his small body gently with each pulse. The roar of the Impala's engine, while immensely loud beyond the pocket, was a welcome sound.  
  
Both sounds, he realized, were the closest indicators he had of  _safety._  
  
As if reminded suddenly of his recent trials, Jacob's mind pulled up phantom memories of the chaos of the buffet. Clattering silverware. People chatting loudly about the options available to them. Fresh cooked food  _sizzling_  less than a foot away from him. The faint sloshing sound of water boiling somewhere beneath him. Giant plates sliding along the metal railing in front of the food set before them.  
  
All of it drawing the eyes by design, ensuring that the small shape dodging among them would go unnoticed or unrecognized for what he really was. Jacob's tumble into the rice could have happened at any time, into any of the mounds of food offered. He could have ended up in something hotter, or harder to escape should someone scoop him up with their serving.   
  
It struck him how unprepared he was for that situation. Dean had been his only out, and he’d passed the little test somehow. It might range from difficult to impossible to interact with Dean, but Jacob knew he could trust the man to come through.   
  
He was  _family._  
  
The thoughts encouraged him all the way back to the motel. Jacob let himself shudder once from the cold when Dean exited the Impala. The swinging steps were easier to deal with this time.  
  


* * *

  
Dean came into the room, carefully stripping off his jacket again and tossing it onto the bed. The ride had been eerily silent the entire way, especially knowing that Jacob could be trying to talk to him for all he knew, but his voice drowned out by the ambient noise around them before it ever reached Dean's ears.  
  
 _We'll get him back to normal,_  Dean determinedly reaffirmed. _We just need to get Sam and Bowman back, then we'll take this asshat out for Jacob._  
  
Sitting down at the table, Dean flipped open the pocket flap. "Last stop on the Dean express. You don't have to go home but you can't stay here." He gave a grin at the tiny body huddled in a corner as he stretched two fingers in again, proud of his mixed references that would have Sam rolling his eyes in exasperation. The fingers came to a stop just an inch from Jacob and patiently waited.  
  
Jacob rolled his eyes and smirked, truthfully glad to hear the jokes from Dean. It meant he was feeling well enough to see humor in something. Jacob was still unsettled by the threat of another "lesson" looming over his head, but at least he wasn't completely alone. Even if his only ally was dangerously big by comparison, he had an ally.  
  
Pulling himself up, Jacob got a solid grip on the fabric of the pocket, before clambering onto the offered fingertips. He nearly tripped on the unstable cloth beneath him, but managed to catch himself before faceplanting right onto them. He dragged himself partway up the enormous digits thicker than his body before sitting still. He couldn't climb all the way back up to Dean's palm; it was too steep for him.  
  
"Alright, dude, if you're kicking me out gimme a lift," he called, waving in case Dean couldn't hear him.  
  
The fingers curled up with Jacob on them, carefully keeping him centered so he didn’t slip off. Dean’s other hand let go of the flap once Jacob was clear and cupped around the fingers to keep him safe. “Easy does it,” he mumbled as he lowered his hands to the table. With someone so fragile in his hand, he wouldn’t let his guard down for an instant.  
  
Dean flattened his hand on the table, trying to make it as easy as possible for Jacob to step off. As easy as he could make it, at least, since there was nothing he could do to help the little guy. While Jacob got down, he went on, “I’ll just grab the dish so you can get cleaned up.” Dean grimaced. “That whipped cream didn’t look as fun as people think.”  
  
He straightened and went to gather up everything, carefully setting it up just like he’d done the other nights. “I’ll get some burn cream for ya for once you’re ready. Just let me know if you need anything else.”  
  
Once again, Jacob found himself climbing into that soap dish, clothes and all. The jeans were holding up fairly well, but his hoodie was a little more ragged every time he looked at it. Everything was affected by the food he'd just spent so much time in. Especially that whipped cream. Jacob pursed his lips as he brushed more of the sugary stuff away in the water.  
  
After spending so much time around the sweltering heat and heady scents of the buffet, the water refreshed his whole body. It soaked through his clothes to soothe his skin. Hopefully, it also helped to get rid of the seasoning coating his body. The thought of being the same  _flavor_  as the food at the buffet ... it turned his stomach. Jacob splashed water over his face to shake the thoughts loose before they took root. He knew what lay down that road, and he didn’t have time for memory lane.  
  
He  _wasn't_  there anymore. He was safe again, at least for now. In a few minutes, they'd go and find Sam and Bowman, too, so they'd be safe. Probably no thanks to Jacob, but he had to at least try to offer his support.  
  
Jacob climbed back out of the water in a hurry. At least, as he'd learned, the chill wouldn't last long because he dried quickly. He could feel the wrapped cloth around him under his shirt coming loose, enough to know that he'd rumpled the carefully wrapped bandaging since Sam had put it on him.  
  
Wincing, Jacob unwrapped his hand again. This time he couldn't really avoid staring at the state of it. The palm and heel of his hand were an unsettling shade of red, with skin peeling away in spots. His fingers curled over it as if they'd protect him from further injury. It had to be second degree. The pain and the sight of the wound made Jacob's stomach do flip flops.  
  
"Yeah, alright, I'm ready for that burn stuff, man. Turns out the pans at that buffet are damn hot." He tore his gaze away from his injury, which he tucked close to himself protectively, to look up at Dean.  
  
Dean finished writing down the address for the burglar on the back of the restaurant business card the trickster had shoved in his jacket during the ‘dream.’ He turned to Jacob, grabbing the small pack of burn cream and ripping it open. “I can’t wait until we can actually get you wrapped up in some gauze and treat those injuries proper,” Dean muttered as he squeezed a dollop on his finger. “I can’t stand seeing you in pain like this. Even with Sam at least there’s  _something_  I can do.”  
  
He stretched out the finger for Jacob so he could reach the cream. “Until then, this will have to do. I can try and cut down more of Sam’s blanket if you want to give wrapping it a try. It might be too big, but it’ll be better than nothing.”  
  
Jacob inched forward, tempted to just stick his entire burned hand in the blob of burn salve the size of his head. He refrained, instead reaching out to scoop up a portion of it on his good hand, his fingers curled to avoid dropping any. It was thick like mud to him, and had the distinct bitter smell of an ointment. When he was a kid, his parents always chided him that the smell meant it worked.  
  
 _God, I hope so._  
  
He hesitated to apply the stuff and glanced down at the discarded strip of fabric torn from his shirt. It was a hasty solution to his injury, cobbled together quickly out of sheer desperation. He had little choice when he was still surrounded by the source of the burn.  
  
"Y-yeah, I guess," he answered, angling his face upwards so Dean could hear. His brow pinched in concern, a number of despairing thoughts echoing in his head. What was one more thing? "Hate to tear up his blanket even more but this needs to be covered."  
  
With that said, Jacob looked back at the wounded hand. He took a deep breath before rushing to spread the salve he'd collected onto his burned skin. He grimaced and sucked in a breath. " _Fuck,_ " he spat, making sure he covered the entire burn with the stinging ointment. "Well it's not the  _worst_  I've ever seen," he said, discomfort still tightening his voice. "This is nothing compared to the crap you've had to stitch up on yourself before." He tried to offer a reassuring smile, though he knew Dean probably couldn't even see it. It was for the best; the pained look lingered.  
  
  
"Yeah, well at least when I had to stitch myself up the supplies were my size," Dean pointed out. He pinched Sam's blanket between two fingers to try and get a strip Jacob's size.  
  
Dean talked while he worked to keep his mind off things. "I got to be so good at stitching up injuries because of all the times dad would come home from a hunt, barely keeping it together. I'd sit him down, get out the supplies, and give him some whiskey. Sometimes to drink, other times to disinfect the injury if we didn't have anything else."  
  
He ripped the blanket, tearing along the edge to keep the rip from getting too big. "He taught me enough to be a battlefield medic if I ever needed it, but it's a hell of a lot harder to stitch yourself up than your dad. That first time I had to stick a needle in myself, I never thought I'd finish. But I knew it was the only way to get better." He gave a laugh. "At least now I have you and Sam around if that ever happens again."  
  
He held out the strip, leaving it on a finger. "That good?"  
  
Jacob took an extra second to work the salve into his stinging burn. His eyes were wide as he mulled over Dean's words. He'd never heard much from Dean about how he grew up. The eldest hunter was so guarded about his past, especially the times without Sam. It only reaffirmed why Dean could look so intense now. He'd grown up in nothing but intensity all the time. It was all he knew from as far back as childhood.  
  
Jacob took the strip of cloth from the huge fingertip before him. He might have imagined it, but he could have sworn there was a shift in Dean's tone when he talked about now.   
  
 _Now I have you and Sam around_.   
  
It was more than the chuckle; Dean almost sounded like there was a deep-seated relief for that fact.  
  
He grinned as he wrapped up his hand once more, trying to keep his fingers and thumb somewhat mobile. "We'll keep you out of the worst trouble," he agreed. "Least we can do." Once the cloth was snugly wrapped around the burn, hiding it from sight once more, Jacob flexed his fingers experimentally. "Gotta look out for family, right?"  
  
"That's right," Dean agreed quietly as he put the shredded blanket back down. "And now it's time to get our family back. Let that asshat know what he got into the second he broke into this room and took advantage of their size. He will regret ever touching Sam or Bowman. Heaven help him if they're hurt." Somewhere inside, he'd accepted Bowman as a part of the family, the same as the rest. The sprite was willing to help them at a moment's notice, and Dean would do the same.  
  
Dean stretched out a hand once more, ready to go. If his little brother was hurt, there would be hell to pay. The same went for Bowman and his wings. Dean's only regret would be Jacob missing out on punching the guy if it came down to that.  
  
Jacob nodded once, resolved. Even if all he could do was listen in, he'd be right there with Dean as he tracked down the others. If nothing else, being left alone was extremely dangerous for Jacob. Even more dangerous than putting himself in Dean's hand when the huge man could hardly tell he was there.  
  
He climbed back onto the offered hand, getting himself to Dean's palm with his arms held out to the sides for balance. He couldn't say he was getting used to it, but he had learned to anticipate the terrain. Every pulse beneath him shook right up through Jacob's shoes, but it wasn't enough to throw his balance.  
  
"Right. I'm ready."  
  
Once Jacob was safely squirreled away in the chest pocket, Dean checked himself for supplies, making sure to tuck away his colt in his pants, and his knife in his jacket. With one last glance at the pocket to be sure Jacob wasn’t getting crushed by his jacket, Dean grabbed the card with the address. He was programming it into the phone’s GPS even as he headed out the door.  
  


* * *

  
There was a scuffing noise from outside the room as the pictures downloaded. The burglar glanced up at the same time as Sam, his brow furrowed. "I told 'em not to come over unannounced anymore," he grumbled to himself as he made his way out of the room.  
  
The door clicked shut behind him.  
  
Unable to believe their luck, Sam stared after him for a minute. He didn't come right back.  
  
"This is it,” Sam said. “Our best shot." He tugged his satchel open, digging out the one thing that might get them out of the cage.  
  
A paperclip.  
  
He was unfolding it the second it was in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They return! Sam and Bowman certainly weren't idle damsels in distress while waiting.
> 
> **Next:** May 30 rd 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	68. The Great Escape

Bowman kept his eyes on the door a few seconds longer. Sam’s words echoed around him, but every instinct kept him on edge for more humans to come stomping back into the room. His wings were tense, both from pain and from his nervousness. The computer on the table, with the long cord connecting it to the camera, hummed away. Bowman didn't know how it worked, but he knew enough to realize that it was getting his image and Sam's. The proof of their existence that would condemn both of their kinds to being hunted down by relentless greed.  
  
He tore his gaze away from the bright screen, stalking over to where Sam worked. By the time he reached the hunter, the metal wire in his hand was straightened out, creating a warped length of metal. It was thinner than the bars around them and barely over two inches long.  
  
"What is that for?" Bowman asked, wondering if Sam meant it to be a weapon. It might surprise the human, but Bowman had his doubts that it'd hold him back for long. Still, every bit of leverage they could wrestle out of their adversary was needed.  
  
Sam glanced over at the sprite as he finished up. He tested the end with a flick. "It's a paperclip. Dean taught me a trick for if I ever got locked up." A broad grin covered his face as he stepped up to the cage door. "This thief  _really_  should have taken my bag away along with my knife." Not many people Sam's size had his unique brand of training.  
  
He pulled himself up on the cage bars, balancing a few inches up. The cage swung gently from side to side as he moved, upset by even his slight weight. Sam grit his teeth as he latched one hand on the lock and slipped the end of the paperclip in the keyhole. The other end of the paperclip he bent in half, using it as an extremely primitive tension wrench while he worked at the tumblers.  
  
The next few minutes were tense. Distant sounds could be heard from the other room as the human dealt with his unexpected visitor. They couldn't make out any words, but loud thumping sounds and footsteps were easy to make out. Sam could only pray the humans would keep out just long enough for him to finish.  
  
The final pin clicked and the lock turned. "Yes," Sam hissed. He rotated the paperclip, and the lock popped open. Fumbling the heavy lock, Sam managed to wrestle it into the cage and the door swung wide.  
  
Sam smirked. "Ready to fly?" he asked even as he attached his hook to the bars.  
  
Even though the cage had bars and wasn't airtight, the door opening felt like a breath of fresh air rushed in to greet them. Bowman grinned. The trapped feeling lingered, and probably would linger until they made it back to safety, but at least they weren't confined to the cage.  
  
Bowman was at the door before he bothered to reply. "Is that really a question?"   
  
He leapt out of the cage.  
  
Three feet was quite a jump for someone their size. It was almost ten times their height. Without his hook, Sam would never get to the floor safely. Bowman, however, didn't have a rope or a hook or anything but his wings, and they were always ready to go.  
  
He barely fell an inch before they snapped open and filled with air. Bowman darted away from the cage on his gliding wings before turning in the air to watch Sam's progress. The bright screen of the computer caught his eye. He flew over to it, looking over the foreign buttons and symbols. The bar on the front screen was filling with more green, and even Bowman knew what that had to symbolize.  
  
"Sam, how do I make this stop working?"  
  
Sam glanced over from where he was hanging, suspended over two feet up in the air. "Can you pull the cord out? That should stop it. Or hit 'cancel' in the screen, with the..." Sam was starting to realize they should have given Bowman some lessons on using the computer so he'd know what Sam was talking about. "You can try hitting the spacebar, the longest key on the keyboard. It might stop the download."  _And it might not,_  Sam knew. It would all depend on what was selected on the screen.  
  
Hearing the room outside grow quiet, Sam risked sliding down his cord, using his sleeves to cut down on the friction burn. His boots hit the ground with a thump.  
  
Backing away, he flicked the cord, knocking the hook from its catch. He grabbed it mid fall, not bothering to coil it around his arm. He needed to find somewhere to hide, fast. Sam didn't have Bowman's advantage of flying. If the human came back, he was exposed.  
  
Bowman's blank look dissipated when he looked back at the computer. Some of Sam's advice had made enough sense. He flitted down to land next to the cord connecting the camera to the computer. It was thick and the texture was strange, but he grabbed the end closer to the laptop in his hands. His wings flared for balance before he tugged on it.  
  
No response. Bowman huffed in frustration and braced a boot against the laptop itself. "Come on," he muttered, before heaving back on the cord once again. His wings flapped once in frustration.  
  
The cord shifted and then came loose. Bowman fell backwards, the thing smacking one of his wings before clattering to the table. He looked up to the computer screen.  
  
It looked different. Something was covering the green bar, which had stopped moving. Bowman didn't bother trying to read the text that had appeared. He didn't have time.   
  
Instead, Bowman shot to his feet. Since the human was silent beyond that gigantic door, he had no idea how much time he had. He needed to be extra sure that the pictures the camera made wouldn't last,  _somehow_. He hopped onto the laptop itself, for a moment intimidated by the sleek, boxy look of everything, but he stomped on the widest button that Sam had mentioned.  
  
Something happened on the bright screen in front of him, but again Bowman mostly ignored it. He stepped onto the keyboard, remembering how Sam navigated it with such care usually. Bowman didn't need to hop around with caution now. He just needed to sabotage the computer, if it was possible. He kicked at several buttons. Some of them had an effect, and others did nothing. While he was able, he might as well try to cause as much trouble for the machine as he could.  
  
With Bowman hard at work with his sabotage, Sam jogged over to the wall, intent on getting himself and Bowman out of sight. He just needed to find a way in. Based on how old this house was, there should be plenty.  
  
The sound of footsteps approaching sent his worry skyrocketing.  _He’s coming back!_  
  
A burst of speed later, Sam was dashing towards the wall.   
  
 _Gotta get out of the open!_  
  


* * *

  
The Impala pulled up to the address Dean had gleaned from the information Jacob had given him. Silencing the engine, Dean stared at the home, sizing it up.  
  
There were lights on near the far side, but the front porch was dark. The beat up car from the footage was parked in the driveway, and everything was silent. Dean scowled.  _Sam better be all right or there’ll be hell to pay._  
  
He glanced down at his pocket, but they both knew Jacob would be sitting this one out in there. “We’re here,” Dean informed him. “Just hang on in there, alright? This might get bumpy.”  
  
The creak of the Impala’s door sounded thunderous in the silent night. Dean tucked his hands into his pockets in the cool night air, glancing up and down the street as he walked casually up to the entrance. He couldn’t afford the police being called on him for a break-in, especially not with Jacob hidden on his person. Even a simple pat down would be disastrous for the kid, never mind Dean getting detained.  
  
He tried to blend into the shadows on the porch, hunching down and digging out his lockpick. The art of opening the door wasn’t something that could be rushed. He had to do it right or they’d be heard. He just wished Sam was around to be a lookout. Sam’s ability to know when they were being watched was uncanny.  
  
The lock clicked and the doorknob twisted in his hand. “Jackpot,” he hissed under his breath. He pushed the door open, searching for an alarm system he might need to disarm before it went off. The thief apparently didn’t see a need for an alarm for himself.  _Probably knows how easy they are to get around,_  Dean thought to himself.  _Waste of good money._  
  
The room beyond the entryway was dark and silent. Illumination came from further into the house, reflecting down a hallway. Dean tread carefully, keeping an eye out for the thief or any small figures running out of the way. If anyone could escape from entrapment, it would be Sam. He’d made sure of that. Sam picked up the skills Dean showed him like a natural, no matter that he was small.  
  
Dean bumped into a chair. He froze in surprise, his entire body going rigid the same way Sam’s did when a light came on. A door clicked in the distance, and Dean pulled out his colt, prepared for the moment the thief came around the corner.  
  
That never happened.  
  
Instead, the man came up behind Dean. A bat flew out of the dark, smashing into Dean’s face. He was tossed onto his back with a grunt of pain, blinking up at the ceiling in confusion. He couldn’t pull his mind together enough to stop someone’s hands from grabbing him and shoving him into a chair. He couldn’t get his hands free before handcuffs snapped around his hands, anchoring him to the chair as the same was done with his legs while a rope was loosely wrapped around to keep him against the back of the chair. He couldn’t stop the duct tape when it was shoved over his mouth. Blood trickled down from his nose as the light overhead snapped on.

  
  
A sneering face leaned in close, bad breath all he could smell. “You thinkin’ to take dem back?” the thief leered at Dean. “I think I’ll be keepin’ these little sweets for myself. Better get yerself comfortable. I’ll deal with you tomorrow.”  
  
Dean couldn't managed more than a muffled growl as the man stepped away. Dean’s colt was picked up and examined before it was dropped on the countertop. The man smirked at that as well. “I’ll make a pretty penny off of this lovely once I get some help gettin’ rid of you.” With that, he stalked out of the room.  
  
From down the hall, Dean heard a door open, and that voice go “Why you little… I’ll make you pay for that! Leave that alone!”  
  
Dean’s shouts for “Sammy!” were muffled by the duct tape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This rescue is going _swimmingly_
> 
> **Next:** June 3 rd 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	69. Lessons Learned

The walk from the Impala built more and more tension in Jacob’s tiny shoulders. Every step Dean took rattled up into the pocket and the cold night air chilled him right to the core. He might as well ditch the hoodie for all the good it was doing to keep him warm. At least he was right next to Dean's chest, which brought new warmth to him with every loud pulse of that enormous heart.  
  
The scraping of a lockpick filled the brisk air. Jacob tucked his hands under his arms to keep them warm while he waited. He couldn't even be a lookout like he might normally be. A very  _tall_  lookout. At their normal sizes, Sam was always better at that, but Jacob could at least  _try_  to help. Now, he was useless.  
  
He found his thoughts wandering to the trickster's last words to them. Jacob was supposed to face a test of his own soon. What could he  _possibly_  hope to accomplish? He couldn't even stand safely on Dean's shoulder without risking tumbling off from one heavy step. Sam could keep his balance decently well and hang on. Jacob wouldn't be able to do that on his own.  
  
Facing some kind of trial at this size felt out of the question. So far, he hadn’t made it out of anything on his own.  
  
Days of constant reminders of how helpless he was wore on Jacob with each passing minute. Knowing that he couldn't even interact with his own best friend without an inherent risk to his life was discouraging. Perspective had been drilled into his head with everything he'd been forced to face head on.  
  
Bowman could fly, and Sam could climb and fight for himself. Jacob could do none of those things. His mounting list of injuries only proved that he simply wasn't cut out to be this small. He'd been useless to stop Bowman and Sam from being taken, just like he'd be useless to get them back. At least he could pretend he was along for support. He settled into the corner of the pocket as Dean straightened and entered the house at last.  
  
An explosion of noise above came out of nowhere. Both of them were falling. Jacob felt the cry dying in his throat as Dean, a titan of huge proportions, fell backwards. Weightlessness and fear gripped Jacob until the huge body next to him slammed into the ground with the force of an earthquake. Jacob soon followed, slamming into Dean's chest. The impact dazed him and he fell limp in the pocket. He might have blacked out for a second or two.  
  
Jacob had no chance to get a grip on the pocket when Dean's attacker hoisted him up. He rolled out of his corner and banged against the chest behind him several times before Dean was secured to the chair. Jacob heard the amplified sound of duct tape tearing off the roll, and he stared upwards. The thief's voice hissed out and Jacob scowled. He definitely recognized the man that had taken his friends.  
  
Then their attacker was stomping off, shouting in the distance. Jacob nearly jumped out of his skin when Dean's muffled yelling rumbled all around him, a percussive explosion of sound. It tapered off just as quickly. Jacob could hear and  _feel_  Dean's heart pounding with uncertainty and panic for his brother's state. Jacob's own heart, tiny as it was, pattered along rapidly. His quick breaths were a distinct counterpoint to the gale-like breaths Dean dragged into his lungs, causing the pocket to sway forward and back.  
  
Jacob's brow pinched. If the others were in trouble, they needed Dean's help. Dean was trussed up just out of reach. Judging by the distant shouting, both of their small friends were causing some sort of trouble for their captor.   
  
How long could they keep it up before they got caught?  
  
Worry for his friends,  _all_  of them, decided for him. He gripped the weave of the front of Dean's pocket and heaved a terse sigh. He wasn't the best climber, but he  _needed_ to survey the situation. Ignoring the twinge of protest in his ribs, Jacob hoisted himself upwards.  
  
Hand over hand, bracing his shoes against the coarse fabric, Jacob made his way up. The flap of the pocket was tricky. At least Dean hadn't buttoned it closed; Jacob would never have made it out. He made sure he was at the far side of the pocket. Propping one arm over the edge to brace himself, Jacob heaved up on the flap of the pocket, pushing it aside.  
  
His face turned upwards, only to wince. Dean's face had blood running down it. More blood than Jacob's body contained. The duct tape locked up the larger hunter's words, preventing him from communicating with Jacob with more than just expressions. The green eyes were distant, staring in the direction of their friends’ struggle. He wanted to go to his little brother and help him, and Jacob could see that not being able to was eating Dean up inside.  
  
Jacob tore his gaze away from Dean's face to see the state of the rest of him. Cuffs kept the man secured to the chair. The metal gleamed in the low lighting, mocking them. Dean was strong, and he was precise with his attacks, but he couldn't attack anything like this.  
  
Jacob stared at the lock on the cuffs keeping Dean's closer arm secure. It gaped tauntingly at him. Jacob scowled at it. The cuffs were so big that he could probably fit his arm into that keyhole.  
  
His eyes widened. It was an absolutely  _absurd_  idea, but they didn't exactly have any other options.  
  
He whipped his face back up to catch Dean's green eyes. "Dean," he warned, his voice raised to catch the titan’s attention. The green eyes turned towards him with a long blink before focusing down with laser intensity on the pocket. Dean hadn’t been expecting to see him there.   
  
Jacob tried to square his shoulders as much as he could with his arms holding him up. "I'm gonna climb down to the cuffs and unlock them." He had to. No one could afford for Jacob to just sit and wait to be found when the thief inevitably searched Dean's pockets.  
  
Dean’s eyes widened when his distracted brain parsed what Jacob was saying. What was clearly a reasoned, long-winded argument against Jacob putting himself in danger came out something closer to "Mmm. Mm mmmm m mm. Mnnmmmy."  
  
Dean tried narrowing his eyes, silently communicating that Jacob should go back in the pocket. As though trying to prove he didn't need Jacob's help, Dean attempted to reach the inner pocket where he'd stored his lockpick only minutes ago. His reach came up short by a good few feet. Jacob squeezed his arms against the edge of the pocket, resisting being thrown back into its dark confines by the movements of the titan. Barely.  
  
"Mmm mm m  _mmmmm_ ," Dean cursed angrily. More sounds came from the room his brother had to be in, along with a tinkling crash. Dean's eyes were scared when he glanced down at Jacob the next time.  
  
Dean might be able to free himself, but he'd be too late to help them.  
  
Jacob pursed his lips. He knew Dean well enough to know the curse he'd tried to spit out past the duct tape. Jacob understood; there wasn't any time. The sounds from the room down the hall set a chill in his heart more assuredly than the cold air outside had done. The light leaking into the distant hall took on a desperate, eerie tint.  
  
"Dean, I have to try. Just try not to, y'know, move," Jacob advised, unable to resist looking down. The drop to the chair Dean sat on would be catastrophic for him. Jacob allowed himself to think that once before he forced the idea out of his head. He couldn't afford to think about how recklessly, mind numbingly stupid this endeavor was.  
  
 _It’s only stupid if it doesn’t work,_  he told himself.  
  
Jacob didn't wait for Dean to struggle for his lockpicks again. He hoisted himself farther up, awkwardly managing around the heavy pocket flap. His ribs cried out for mercy as his core tensed. He needed all the stability he could secure for himself, but his uninjured hand did more work than the wrapped one with the burn. The sting sent a tingling throb all the way up his arm.  
  
Jacob's muscles already quivered. The exhaustion of the week, which he'd never really been able to catch up to, was coming to a head. Once his whole body was out of the pocket, suspended over the cliff that Dean's chest formed, Jacob felt everything tense up by degrees.  
  
His arms strained. Jacob already felt sweat beading on his brow and he hadn't even moved away from the pocket. He glanced up at Dean's face. Jacob had to purse his lips and suppress a shudder. The frightened panic in those green eyes was unsettling, since they were  _bigger_  than him right now. Jacob looked away and put that out of mind too. Dean would be watching him intently. Jacob couldn't distract himself with how worried that gaze was. Couldn't think about how dead he'd be if he lost his grip, because he and Dean both knew the titan wouldn't be able to catch him.  
  
He only let himself think of the climb.  
  
It shouldn't be too hard. The weave of Dean's shirt left a handhold for Jacob wherever he needed it. His fingers were tiny enough to easily loop between the threads. All he needed to do was go hand over hand, bracing his boots against the shirt, and make it over to Dean's huge arm. No problem.  
  
The cliff he clung to moved in time with a breath. Jacob gritted his teeth. Dean was breathing as slowly, as shallowly as he dared. Trying to keep still. Yet any slight motion on his part still set the entire world moving for Jacob. It was impossible for a human to  _not move_ , unless they were dead. Jacob closed his eyes and took a deep breath of his own.  
  
And then he took one hand off the cloth.  
  
The other had to compensate immediately and Jacob nearly slipped before he even got started. His heart jumped prematurely to his throat as he hastily grabbed the shirt again. He could swear he heard Dean's massive heart skip a beat and the beginnings of a choked noise of alarm echo out of his chest.  
  
"I'm fine," Jacob insisted, for his own benefit as much as Dean's. When he moved a hand again, he didn't slip. His arms quivered from the exertion, but he didn't fall.  
  
Progress was agonizingly slow. Jacob shook his head when a drop of sweat dropped down his face and tickled his fiery skin. He had the strength to hold his body weight up, but he lacked the training or the endurance that someone like Sam grew up with. He wasn't used to climbing and was far,  _far_  out of his element. The thumping and the frustrated curses coming from the other room drove him on.  
  
If Sam and Bowman were still fighting in there, against odds that were stacked against them from the start, Jacob could keep trying out here. Their size wasn't getting in the way, so his shouldn't either. He  _had to try._  
  
Jacob was near the small gap between Dean's chest and his sleeve. He'd reached the home stretch.   
  
The door to the room down the hall burst open, sending light flooding briefly into the hall as the thief stormed out and cut off the supply once more. The whole house rattled with the impact of the slamming door.  
  
Jacob froze. He was out in the open, exposed. Clinging to Dean's shirt with white-knuckled hands. All the thief had to do was spare Dean a glance and he could notice the miniscule hunter hanging there.   
  
But the man  _didn't_.   
  
He stomped past where Dean sat, grumbling about 'stupid flits.' Jacob's heart didn't want to retreat from his throat as he heard drawers and cupboards being wrenched open somewhere behind Dean. He could never hope to see the tantrum the thief was having, so he tried to put that out of his mind, too.  
  
Every frustrated clatter or slam of a worn out cabinet door made Jacob flinch like the echoes of an earthquake he could hear but not see. He took several deep breaths and reached across the gap, getting one hand on Dean's sleeve. Then the other. Climbing downwards was easier. Jacob could feel the tension in Dean's arm, practically quivering with the effort to stay in place.  
  
He was an inch above the crook of Dean's restrained arm when the thief stalked around in front of the chair. Jacob gasped in surprise and dropped the last short distance, landing on his back on Dean's forearm with an upside down view of the thief. He froze, but the man only had a smarmy grin for Dean. He didn't know to look for Jacob, so he didn't bother to notice the small, hoodie-clad figure lying on Dean's frozen arm. His dark hoodie was at last coming in useful. The important person knew where he was while the dangerous one didn’t expect to see him and thus any glance would roll right off his tiny body.  
  
The thief held up what he'd searched for, shaking it smugly. The liquid sloshed ominously in the can of  _Raid._  "See how your little fairy handles this," he taunted. "Don't need the flit to be able to fly to sell. He just needs to keep looking pretty with those wings. This'll save me some headaches. Maybe if it works I'll give the other one a little spritz. Slow down his attitude."  
  
There was murder in Dean’s eyes as he glared back, but the cuffs held him helpless.  
  
Anger flared up in Jacob like an enraged beast. That smirk was ten times more infuriating than the trickster's. The casual threat against his friends was enough to set Jacob's blood boiling. He wished more than ever that he was back to size, if nothing else so he could wipe the floor with that foul smirk.  
  
Jacob rolled over to his front when the man turned away, taking the bug spray with him back towards the other room. They were out of time. The chemicals in that poison would do permanent damage to Sam and Bowman, if it didn't kill them outright. Even as he scrambled along on Dean's arm, Jacob winced at the mental image of a bug writhing in intense pain after barely a sprinkle of spray landed on it. Sam or Bowman would face nerve damage if they survived.  
  
No more joyful flights for Bowman, who cherished flying above all else. No more rushing in to join the fight with Dean for Sam, who took pride in his independence and what he and his brother did. Both of them would be stripped of a crucial part of themselves in the name of greed.  
  
Jacob managed to reach Dean's wrist without incident. He had to slow down when he got to the end of the sleeve to avoid slipping off the side. Over here, the drop was no longer just to the seat of the chair. He'd plummet right to the unforgiving floor.  
  
The keyhole hovered precariously near the edge. Jacob would be on a slope, but he'd made it so far on his own.  
  
"No problem," he muttered to himself, opting to sit on Dean's wrist to reduce his risk of toppling. Dean was as still as a deer in headlights. After what the thief said, he might as well be one. Jacob was gripped with fear as well. The few advantages Sam and Bowman had wouldn't matter if they got hit by that bug spray.  
  
Jacob scooted forward until he was next to the keyhole. He was right. He could fit an arm right into it. He braced his burned hand against the cuff before reaching carefully into the cold metal mechanisms of the lock. He could either get Dean unlocked, or he'd just colossally wasted time  _and_  put himself in a hugely dangerous position.  
  
Jacob felt around for the tumblers in the lock. Dean had taught him the basics of picking a lock. It wouldn't be easy, but Jacob didn't have the time for a detour to get the lockpicks, even if they weren't longer than him and thus too cumbersome to use. Once he had a feel for everything, Jacob wedged a second hand into the lock. Things were snug, but he could get both arms into the lock of a pair of cuffs.  
  
 _Holy shit._  
  
Jacob nearly broke the skin of his bottom lip from biting it so hard. He didn't dare breathe as he figured out the mechanism without being able to see it. He  _felt_  every bit of it. The intricate details of a lock became clumsy, cobbled together shapes to his hands. Putting that feeling for detail to good use, Jacob was able to manipulate the lock with some effort.  
  
His arms strained, honed muscles flexed for all they were worth. Jacob groaned when the lock finally gave in to his influence. His wrist was jarred by the catch sliding back, releasing the cuffs. He didn't worry about that. Instead he immediately turned to reach behind him and get his hands on the edge of Dean's sleeve so he didn't fall when the hunter pulled himself the rest of the way free.  
  
Despite the overhang and the drop to the floor below yawning less than an inch from him, Jacob had a grin on his face. He'd  _done_  it.  
  
Dean’s eyes widened even more when he saw the handcuff snap open. Jacob had  _done_  it! He was smaller than the key and he’d managed to get it open. Past the complete aggravation at being ignored, Dean felt pride blossom in his chest. His pupil had managed the impossible and freed him.  
  
Now for Dean’s part.  _Hold still,_  he tried to say, managing a “Hmmm mmm,” for the smaller hunter. He shifted his hand up in the air, careful not to knock Jacob’s balance off. A slight tilt of his wrist and the handcuff fell against the armrest. Dean stiffened at the noise, glancing at the other room. There were no reaction to it. Sam and Bowman were taking up the burglar’s attention.  
  
Dean growled at that thought. He moved the hand, slipping into his jacket and pulling out the lockpick. Before he worked at the lock, he managed to twist his other hand around so it was palm up, and tilted his wrist so Jacob fell in a heap in the center.  _Sorry, kid,_  he wanted to say. Jacob needed to be out of the way so he could work, but with the duct tape he didn’t bother asking. It wasn't like Jacob would have any idea what he was mumbling.  
  
The second cuff came easier, snapping off in moments. Dean had plenty of practice escaping handcuffs. He tugged free of the rope securing him to the chair and leaned over, working the cuffs around his legs just as fast. With freedom secured, the lockpick vanished back inside his jacket, and he finally got to yank the duct tape off his mouth. Dean stretched his jaw open, gingerly rubbing the raw skin.  
  
Dean lifted Jacob up. The motion was so fast that any progress Jacob made in picking himself up was undone. Gravity dragged him down and his stomach tried to stay behind as he rose swiftly in front of those green eyes the size of his body.   
  
Before the disorientation wore off Dean was already scolding him. “You crazy bastard. What the hell were you thinking?”  
  
Jacob was too giddy for the annoyance in Dean's booming voice to bother him. The scolding look in those eyes just glanced right off of the armor made of Jacob's pride in his own success. Once the hand stopped moving-- at least stopped lifting at incredible speed-- he pushed himself up to sit and crossed his arms smugly. The hand still swayed with each pulse that pushed blood through it, but it was mostly still, giving Jacob a steady view of the aggravated face that filled his vision.  
  
"How's  _that_  for saving the princess?" he quipped, grinning wider as his vengeance finally came. It took a day, but he'd found a way to get back at Dean for his comment. Not that Jacob thought he'd stop getting shit for that, but he at least got his own shot in.  
  
He was elated and it showed. Jacob was aware of how reckless he'd been. How  _stupid_  it was to do what he'd just done. Climbing a titan and running along his arm to try to undo cuffs big enough to chain cars together... it boggled the mind. Jacob was exhausted and in pain and he could well have lost his grip at any moment. He could still feel the turmoil in his stomach from the drop off the side of Dean's arm if he'd made a single misstep.  
  
At least his size had provided one advantage; Dean's arms were wide enough to be small roads to Jacob. He sighed deeply, still grinning. "Alright, why're you waiting around? I didn't go through all that work  _saving your ass_  so you could just stare, y'know."  
  
Dean rolled his eyes with a smirk as he started to walk. “Fine, but I think it’s high time for you to head back in the pocket. After all--”  
  
Midstep, Dean froze.  
  
Everything, everywhere froze along with him.  
  
Except for Jacob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone know what Jacob's lesson was now that we've come to the end of all things?
> 
> **Next:** June 6 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	70. Eat Me

A slow, lazy clap came from behind. Jacob turned abruptly and scrambled to his feet in alarm. His giddiness was replaced immediately with wary apprehension at what he saw.  
  
 _No no no. Not this. Not now._  Jacob almost balked. He was so close to seeing Sam and Bowman again, seeing if they were alright.  _So close!_  
  
The trickster stood on the cushioned surface, an elegant glass top table beside him. On the table sat a crystal vial filled with a sparkling potion with a label attached with gold thread that said “Drink Me.” Next to the potion was a plate of small cakes. The icing on each one in delicate black letters spelled out “Eat Me.”  
  
The trickster gave Jacob a smile after his applause died off. “Congratulations, Jakey-boy. You passed the test.”  
  
Jacob's heart was pounding in his chest, still alarmed at the sight of his tormentor standing casually in front of him. He glanced over his shoulder briefly. Dean was completely still, frozen mid sentence. Jacob couldn't even feel a pulse thundering through his hand anymore. No breath passed through Dean’s lips to ruffle Jacob’s hair.  
  
It was like time had stopped so the trickster could come and taunt him more.  
  
Or congratulate him. The words echoed in his head and at first didn't even sound like actual words. It really started to sink in as the seconds stretched out.   
  
 _I passed the test?_  
  
He'd won?  
  
His eyes fell to the glass table. The very clear  _Alice in Wonderland_  setup got him to raise an eyebrow.   
  
 _What happened to Super Mario Brothers, ass?_    
  
Apparently the trickster was mixing references. Or making fun of Sam's mistaken assumption. Considering the trickster’s willful disregard for being courteous to others, it was probably that. Regardless, Jacob knew that if he said anything about it, he'd just get teased for it. Teasing from this guy was never very fun.  
  
"You got a thing for messed up food," Jacob mumbled sullenly. He eyed the trickster cautiously. "That was the test? You're not just here to give me shit and send me off before I even get to see if my friends are okay?" The resentment in the question was dampened considerably by the fear that he might be right. Jacob knew that asking for a break would get him nowhere, if the trickster really wanted to keep up his game.  
  
“ _Give you shit?_ ” the trickster parroted back. “Why would I give you shit after all that?” His tone was easy and lighthearted, a clear contrast to Jacob’s sullen, defeated disposition.   
  
“I told you at the beginning I was rooting for you, kid, and here we are. You did it.  _You,_ ” the trickster jabbed a finger straight at Jacob, “just did the impossible. You didn’t let  _size rule you._  You realized that there was something you could do to help everyone out. Sure, you can’t run off and beat up the guy attacking Sam and Bowman. But you  _could_  help out the guy that  _can_. The same way Sam and Bowman would if they were in your shoes. Now you understand,  _really_  understand what it’s like for them, anytime they’re around you humans that they trust. You’re going to need that understanding in the future. And now that you’ve passed the test and proved to everyone, including Dean, that it doesn’t matter how big you are, you get your just desserts.”  
  
He gestured grandly at the delicate table, out of place on the callused skin. Dean’s lifeline ran under them, as motionless and sturdy under their feet as a layer of concrete. “All it takes is one of these lovely cakes and you’ll be back to your regular Sasquatch size. Just make sure you eat the  _entire_  thing, and no sharing with Dean. We don’t need him growing big enough to match that ego of his, y’know.” The trickster gave Jacob a wink as he stepped back from the plate. “Don’t forget what you learned here, though. Otherwise I might have to come back and pay you another visit, bucko. The same goes for Dean.”  
  
The words were said so casually, so lightly, but they were chilling with the truth of the warning. Jacob chose not to dwell on it. He edged forward, a critical eye on the brightly decorated cakes arranged in front of him. He kept expecting the trickster to proudly crow "Just kidding!" before making the pastries vanish. He kept expecting to find himself dangling once again by his jacket, suspended over a drop that was unfathomably high.  
  
Neither happened. Jacob picked up one of the decorated cakes, giving it a frown. It looked like one of those cheap sugar cookies a little kid went nuts for at a birthday party, bright frosting and all. He glanced up at the trickster. That smug encouragement on his face made Jacob roll his eyes.  
  
He had no idea if the trickster was being genuine. Jacob could eat the little cookie and shrink even more.   
  
Or nothing would happen.   
  
Or it could be the catalyst that slingshotted him off somewhere else. The praise still bounced around in Jacob's skull and he hardly believed he'd heard it. After all the derisive teasing and insistence that Jacob deserved a little perspective about his smaller friends, it was hard to reconcile the congratulations as coming from the same person.  
  
With the world frozen in place around him, Jacob didn't really have much of a choice but to go along with it. With his other hand clenched in a fist to help him focus on the now instead of all the nightmarish possibilities, Jacob popped the cookie into his mouth.  
  
He immediately pulled a face. There was no room for anything but sugar in the thing. The overwhelming sweet flavor was almost too much, but Jacob managed to choke it down. He opened his mouth to make a comment on the trickster's choice in cures, but a wave of dizziness slammed into him. Jacob stumbled and put a hand out in surprise to steady himself.  
  
His eyes snapped back to focus when it rested solidly against a wall.  
  
Jacob whipped his gaze around, his eyes wide, shock striking him dumb as he took every sight in from a height of six feet and five inches.  
  
The world snapped back to normal. “--it’s too danger--” Dean’s voice, resuming right where he’d left off before being interrupted, skipped a beat. He let out a shout of surprise, trying to stop walking when Jacob, full-sized, materialized right in front of him.  
  
Dean and Jacob collapsed in a heap when he wasn’t fast enough. Dean recoiled from the other hunter after a week of worrying about hurting him. The trickster and the table had vanished from his hand as Jacob grew back, gone before Dean ever knew they existed.  
  
“Jacob… you… you’re normal!” he blurted in shock. He instinctively checked his hand, unable to believe Jacob had gone from being small enough to stand on it to his full, towering size. “What the hell!”  
  
Dean pulled himself off the ground, hauling Jacob up by the arm. Before he could demand an explanation from Jacob, a crashing sound from the other room made both men flinch, reminding them of their friends’ predicament. Sam and Bowman were in trouble  _now_.  
  
Jacob offered Dean a hasty shrug and an  _I'll tell you later_  expression. He didn't have time to recount what the trickster had told him about everything he'd just been through, or the chilling warning that would probably hang over Jacob's head for a long time. On legs that were still a little unsteady, Jacob pivoted and rushed down the hallway.  
  
 _'Can't go beat up the guy,’ right,_  he thought, almost smirking at the grim irony in the trickster's timing. From what he'd learned of the elusive shithead, it was entirely on purpose. The guy  _lived_  off irony. Jacob practically threw the door right off his hinges when he burst into the side room.  
  
The scene before him sent his heart, already pummeling his ribcage in overdrive, into a greater frenzy. The shabby room didn't house much furniture. A shelf across from the door was surrounded by shards of glass and broken frames and other destroyed knickknacks. Jacob glanced up only briefly to see that the source of these broken pieces was Sam, shoving everything over that he could. That had been the cause of the huge crash before.  
  
Knowing Sam was okay as he raged destructively on the shelf, Jacob zeroed in on the room's other occupants. A table to the side only housed an old laptop, some papers, and a camera. Sitting on it, scrambling back fearfully, was Bowman. The sprite had his bright green eyes on the can of Raid that the thief aimed at him as he stalked towards the grounded sprite. Bowman's wings dragged along with him, stunned from when the human had no doubt swatted him right out of the air as he darted around.  
  
Jacob took it all in, and less than a second later crossed the room with long strides ( _damn_  it felt good to be able to do that) and grabbed the thief's shoulder. The guy had a curse already dropping out of his mouth when Jacob wrenched the man away from the table, his strength easily overpowering the scrawnier human.  
  
There was a beat of confusion when the thief looked up at him, wondering where the hell Jacob came from. A clatter came as the bug spray dropped from the thief’s hand because he took a straight punch right to his sternum. He doubled forward, all the breath leaving his lungs. It gave Jacob the easiest angle to box him right on the side of his head.  
  
The man dropped like a sack of hammers, out cold from the abrupt, vicious assault. Jacob, his every muscle sore from pain and sheer exhaustion, was still far more than a match for him. He took deep breaths, standing over his fallen adversary, trying to work adrenaline out of his system that felt like it had made a permanent home.  
  
Out of the two that had been in the room, Sam was the first to respond to the unexpected arrival. “Jacob!” he cried out, disbelief and startled joy in his voice. He kicked over one last statue for good measure, sending it tumbling off the shelf. His plan of distracting the burglar from Bowman had only gone so far before the human had decided to focus his efforts on one of them, choosing the one that didn’t have a fallback shelter in easy reach. Up on the top shelf, Sam had enough time to dodge back into the wall if the man came close.   
  
“You did it! You grew back!”  
  
He grabbed his hook, determined to get off the shelves and make sure Jacob was okay for himself. His previous hike through the walls, using the support beams and decaying pathways had worked fine when he was escaping from grasping hands, but now there was no need for stealth or cover. Despite all odds, they were safe and within reach of their own friendly humans.  
  
Daringly, Sam jumped off the shelf, letting his hook catch on the bracket that held the plank of wood against the wall. He swung down as fast as he could, easily sliding along the cord using the sleeve of his jacket. He slowed once he made it to chest height for Jacob, giving him a huge smile. It hadn’t been the same without Jacob towering over them all.  
  
Jacob gasped and his hands moved up almost of their own accord, cupping under Sam. Even though he had his fishing hook firmly stuck in the shelf, seeing him drop like a stone had automatically made Jacob step forward, wanting to catch his falling friend. Sam's tiny weight settled in Jacob's protectively cupped palms, and suddenly Jacob was struck with awe at the whole situation.  
  
Sam's life was literally in his hands. After so many days of being absolutely miniscule, Jacob understood that now more than ever, his warm brown eyes growing wide at the realization of that trust. The smaller man in his hands, daring and smart and quick to learn new things, was relying on Jacob to treat his trust with care. Sam had all but leapt right into Jacob's grasp, hurling control at him like a baseball.  
  
Jacob, almost twenty times Sam's size if not more. Jacob felt a ghost of a smile gaining ground on his face. He knew how easy it could be for him to make a mistake, or for him to take advantage of his size. Sam knew it too, and he was still there. Jacob moved his hands closer to his chest and curled his fingers more, understanding the depth of that trust.  
  
Mere hours ago, Jacob had been small enough for Sam to scoop up in one arm. It blew his mind to see him as he was used to seeing him again. He shifted a thumb, lightly brushing along Sam's shoulders in a greeting. "Good to see ya," he said quietly.  
  
A fluttering to the side drew Jacob's attention in time for a slight weight to settle down on his shoulder. Bowman sat down with a huff, his wings slack and hanging over the side of his perch. Jacob could see from the corner of his eye that the sprite sported a relieved grin.  
  
"It's about blasted time you came around, giant," Bowman greeted. He rested his hands on Jacob's shoulder, still amazed and overjoyed to see his best friend back at the ridiculous size he was supposed to be. Bowman had almost thought he was seeing things when the human burst into the room and stopped his assailant. Bowman had no idea what that canister was for, but the gloating look on the thief's face had told him it was nothing good for a sprite.  
  
Jacob laughed quietly, relief and mirth both carrying in the sound. He made sure Sam was secure on one hand, cupped close to his heart, before reaching up towards the sprite. Bowman remained on his perch while a finger the size of his body brushed at his wild hair. He rolled his eyes but allowed the action, just this once.  
  
Dean entered the room at last, a tear in his eye at the sight of all his friends, the family he’d found in the last year, all happy and back together. Sam was grinning like a lunatic in Jacob’s hand, Bowman rolling his eyes, and Jacob all around thrilled to be there and back to normal.   
  
 _We made it,_  Dean thought. More than once, he’d doubted it himself. Sam and Jacob vanishing… Sam returning to the room soaked in blood… losing Jacob in a buffet… It had been a week of everyone’s worst nightmares given life. So many memories, trying to vie for his attention and drown him in guilt, that he forced away. All that mattered was they were all together, and everyone was safe again.  
  
Sam brightened up even more when he saw his brother enter, if that was possible. Bowman went to swoop off of Jacob’s shoulder as Dean raised his arms for a hug, only to get easily snatched out of the air by the hunter. “Where do you think you’re going, small fry?” he teased as he brought the hand close to his chest. “You’re part of the group too.”  
  
Dean swept everyone up into a hug, Sam and Bowman both held between the two humans that they trusted. Even though two massive chests towered over them as Dean wrapped his arm around Jacob’s shoulders, they were perfectly safe. Held in friendly hands after so many hours of terror and stress and being treated like they were nothing more than objects. Dean closed his eyes, the tear slipping down his cheek now that everyone was back together.   
  
 _Safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacob passed the test!
> 
> Sam's being so fucking destructive on that shelf, this guy's making _no_ money off the items he stole.
> 
> It's only taken 70 whole chapters to get here, but the team's back together, and all in one piece! (and at proper sizes)
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Next:** June 10 th 2018 at 9pm.


	71. You'd Do the Same

Jacob felt Bowman's wings fluttering in agitation before he settled down in Dean's grasp and accepted the hug. With a giant on either side, he wasn't about to go anywhere anyway. Jacob made sure Sam was safely held against his chest before clapping Dean on the back with his free hand, the one wrapped up in what used to be part of Sam's blanket. Now it was far too thick to be used for that, and bigger than the entire blanket by far.  
  
Jacob's arm tensed to squeeze Dean back, beyond relieved that the danger was behind them. Mere hours ago, it would have been unsafe for Dean to pick him up between two fingers lest he risk snapping Jacob's fragile ribs. Now, Jacob was taller than Dean by several inches, wrapped up in a hug that would have crushed him. He was finally seeing the room from the perspective he was meant to, with his smaller friends safe.   
  
The danger was over.   
  
Jacob was his normal size again, and the man that had caged Sam and Bowman was out cold, to wake in the morning with a headache to end all headaches.  
  
After a few seconds of silently reveling in the fact that they were all  _safe,_  Jacob backed off from the group hug. It wasn't a moment too soon, because Bowman was clearly getting restless stuck in a hand as he was. Jacob checked on Sam, making sure he hadn't smushed him too much in the relieved embrace.  
  
Bowman punched Dean's thumb to get the human's attention. "Glad you finally made it. We tried not to look at the camera thing, but he made our pictures. I tried to stop the computer by pushing all the buttons but I dunno if that did anything."  
  
Dean glanced over at the computer, eyebrows scrunching together as he glared at the computer screen. He held the hand with Bowman in it out to Jacob so the sprite could rest with the others. Jacob held out his wrapped hand and Bowman settled onto it without complaint for once as soon as Dean's grasp uncoiled around him. Sam looked exhausted, so Dean didn’t even bother asking for his help with the computer issues. He’d figure it out, one way or the other.  
  
While Dean leaned over the desk and started tapping away at the computer, Sam let himself slump down in Jacob’s hand, plopping down with his back against Jacob’s chest. Leaning his head back against the warm wall behind him and pulling his satchel close, Sam sighed. The sheer relief of Jacob’s save was sinking in. He’d really thought they might lose Bowman, and he couldn’t do anything to help. The man just started to ignore him after the first few shocks. All Sam could do was either smash things or vanish into the walls.  
  
Now, both Sam and Bowman were safe. In Jacob's hands. Sam noticed with weary concern that the hand Bowman rested on was wrapped tightly in clumsily cut cloth, what looked suspiciously like yet another part of his blanket. Bowman tucked himself closer to Jacob's curled fingers, avoiding the wrappings as much as he could as he curled up in the human's hand. Both of the kidnapping victims let themselves unwind in the warmth and safety Jacob provided, high up off the ground.  
  
Even Jacob himself seemed exhausted, but comforted beyond belief that they were okay. He leaned against the wall and sank to a seated position. He was careful not to upset his passengers, but with the fight over, his legs had decided that standing was no longer necessary. He leaned his head against the wall behind him with a weary thunk and watched Dean at work.  
  
Dean tore the SD card out of the camera to keep before tossing the rest of the camera in the corner to join all the destroyed picture frames and statuary. Sam hadn’t held back while he was attempting to be a distraction, that was for sure. Nothing breakable was left standing on the top shelf his hook was attached to.  
  
Pocketing the card, Dean clicked through a few screens on the computer, scowling. The pictures had been successfully downloaded… and he’d never tried wiping data so it couldn’t be recovered in some fashion. They  _needed_  those pictures gone. Sam and Bowman’s people would be helpless if they were exposed.  
  
Dean hefted the computer in one hand, glancing over at his friends. “Think he’s got insurance for this?” he snarked. He tossed the computer on the ground before stomping down on it, shattering the screen and crushing down on the hard drive. Dean didn’t hold back, taking out his pent-up frustration from a week of feeling useless and directing it all at the machinery under his boot.  
  
Jacob smirked faintly at Dean's joke, but soon fell to watching the mesmerizing destruction as Dean dealt with the laptop in his own way. Plastic and metal bits squealed with tension before breaking away, skittering across the floor with a sullen finality. The casing of the laptop was sturdy, but not sturdy enough to withstand more than a few stomps from Dean's boot.  
  
The laptop slowly dwindle out of recognition as anything more than a pile of scrap. Jacob had been at ground zero for that level of power earlier that day. Standing mere inches from that boot when it slammed down to do away with the spider, Jacob's body had been thrown from the shockwave. Even Sam or Bowman would be knocked aside by that much force. Jacob’s eyes glazed over and his breathing became slower, shallower, trying to avoid panic while Dean got his much deserved chance to let his frustration out.  
  
Jacob was glad to have Sam and Bowman close by during such destruction. Sam leaned right against him, no doubt hearing the loud thrum of Jacob's heart as it slowed to a crawl from the previous adrenaline rush. The little hunter didn’t say a word, but didn’t look away from Dean as he reduced the computer to rubble. It was odd sometimes, how accepting Sam was of moments like this, odder still now that Jacob knew just what it would look like for Sam. Bowman was already settled leaning against Jacob's fingers on his other hand. The sprite's wings, wrapped around himself for comfort, quivered from exertion.  
  
The two of them had nearly been sprayed with bug spray. If Jacob had been a few steps too late ...  
  
He sighed faintly, dismissing his imagination before it could run with the dismal thought. That hadn't happened and wasn’t  _going_  to happen. His imagination had been nothing but unkind to him this entire time. Jacob had to stop indulging it.  
  
"Y'know, Dean, I don't think anyone's getting anything out of that one," Jacob pointed out when the laptop was well past its point of no return. Dean had a lot of frustrations of his own to work out, and Jacob couldn't begrudge him that.  
  
Even so, exhaustion was calling them all. Getting a good night's sleep after everything he'd been through, every trial he'd endured, was more appealing with each passing minute.  
  
Dean considered his work on the laptop before conceding Jacob was right. The twisted hunk of metal on the floor wouldn't be doing anyone any good anymore. He kicked it aside, letting it skid across the floor to join the rest of the demolished objects under the shelves. A small glint up in the air caught his eye, and he picked his way across the broken glass to retrieve Sam's small hook from the shelves. Reaching his goal, Dean plucked the hook free between two fingers, glad to have it and Sam safely back where they belonged.  
  
Making his way back over to Jacob and the others, Dean held out the hook for Sam. The smaller hunter accepted it back, carefully coiling the clear fishing line around his arm. Sam took his time wrapping it up now that they were safe, making sure it wouldn't tangle.  
  
Before heading out, Dean grabbed the burglar off the ground, hauling him up with a moan. "You ever  _touch_  any of them again, you're gonna have more problems to deal with than a few broken frames and a busted laptop, you hear me?" His eyes were icy daggers.  
  
Not waiting for a reply, Dean dropped him back down, sending him into the desk with a swift kick and leaving him to slump, defeated.   
  
" _Now_  I'm ready," Dean declared, offering Jacob a hand off the floor.  
  
Jacob raised his eyebrows at the thief, thinking he probably sported a few bruised ribs now, too. He turned back to Dean with a faint smirk, glad they both now shared the experience of showing that creep a thing or two. After what he'd done, caging Bowman and Sam like pets and threatening them with poison, he certainly earned it.  
  
Jacob almost leaned away from the wall, but glanced down at his hands. Both were occupied. "Alright guys, time to get going," he muttered, amazed that his voice actually carried so well. Sam, leaning on his chest like he was, probably would have heard him no matter how quietly he whispered.  
  
Moving his hand away from his chest, Jacob was careful not to send Sam tumbling. He hesitated for a moment before tentatively moving his hand to his shoulder to offer a perch. He was surprised to feel the slight weight transfer off his hand with such ease, Sam settling next to the edge of his hood. If he'd wanted to go over to Dean instead, Sam would have said so.  
  
But he was trusting Jacob. That trust was almost staggering with its depth.  
  
Bowman hastily stretched his wings before fluttering off Jacob's other hand. He landed on the opposite shoulder just in time for Jacob to take Dean's hand and let himself be helped up. Jacob had a person sitting on each of his shoulders, and they both had put themselves there. Bowman almost never perched on shoulders for very long, and Sam usually opted to travel with his older brother. But they were here.  
  
Though his face was pale and haggard and tired, there was a smile there. Jacob nodded towards the door. "After you."  
  
Sam leaned closer to Jacob's neck, the adrenaline wearing off from the last few hours and making his arms shake. From waking up in a dollhouse to being treated like nothing more than a prize to sell, it had been one of the worst days of his life. Now he was safe, everyone was okay, and things might have a chance to go back to normal.  
  
Almost everything.  
  
As Dean lead the way out of the room, Sam surreptitiously rubbed at the back of his neck. There should have been  _something_  there, a slight tingle at the least when Dean's eyes strayed over to him. That was expected. That was  _normal_.  
  
But there was nothing.  
  
Almost like he'd been shot up with novocaine on his back, there was nothing there. The blankness disturbed him more than the burning flame from all the covetous eyes in the morning. Hopefully it was temporary, and would heal over time. Otherwise, one of his best advantages was  _gone._  Snuffed out like a candle.  
  
Dean grabbed something off the counter in the kitchen, and Sam's eyes blinked open to the older hunter tossing Jacob his wallet. The last of the burglar's ill-gotten gains.  
  
Sam let himself slump down a bit when they headed out into the night, his eyes drifting closed when he wasn't paying attention.  
  
Jacob sluggishly dropped his wallet into his pocket. It felt like such a trivial concern after everything he'd gone through in the last several days. He sighed as he reached the Impala, quietly amazed that he was taller than the huge car again. Like he was supposed to be. Last time he'd been in the vehicle, he'd been tucked away in a pocket too big for words. Bigger than the car was now.  
  
Jacob made sure the two on his shoulders wouldn't fall before he sank into the bench seat himself. With Sam leaning against his neck, Jacob almost mirrored the smaller hunter. Bowman had his wings draped over the side of his perch, lounging with a lazy slope in his own thin shoulders. The two of them were exhausted after everything they'd been through.  
  
All because they'd been protecting Jacob. Now that he was his correct size again, Jacob was determined to keep them safe in turn. They'd never done anything to deserve any of this and they deserved a break.  
  
He hated that his friends-- his  _family-_ \- had been dragged into trouble too. He might have come to believe more than once that he'd earned what happened to him, but what had Sam done? What had Bowman done?  
  
As the Impala started on the journey back to the motel, Jacob's aches and pains started to really catch up to him. With the peril behind him, he could assess the damage. There wasn't an inch of him that wasn't in pain. So many injuries, large and small, had accumulated since the whole fiasco started. Jacob wondered if things were only so intense to make up for how temporary it was planned to be. If Sam's folk or the sprites had to go through something that bad every day for their entire lives... there's no way they'd last.  
  
"Thanks." The word of gratitude slipped out of him out of nowhere. Jacob's somewhat disjointed thoughts had brought him back around to how much the others had done. The risks they'd all taken. He owed them his life ten times over.  
  
Dean glanced over at Jacob before turning back to the road. “You’d do the same for us,” was all he had to say on the subject. It was all that mattered to him. You watched out for family, no matter what came.  
  
His grip on the wheel tightened.   
  
A week of being afraid of losing his best friend was over at last, and they’d all made it. Somehow. Sam was curled up against Jacob’s neck, clearly either asleep or well on his way there. Dean couldn’t hide a smile at the sight. Even after everything his brother had gone through in the last twenty four hours with the toy store and the burglar, he was still comfortable enough around the two humans to relax and let his guard down. Dean couldn’t make out the sprite from where he was sitting, but he had no doubt Bowman was just as exhausted.  
  
It felt odd without Sam sitting on his shoulder. After just a year of being back together, it was almost like he was missing a piece when Sam wasn’t there. He pushed down any temptation to scoop the tired hunter up and put him back on his shoulder. Sam was thrilled to have Jacob back. Dean had a feeling he’d be watching out for Jacob for some time yet.  
  
After all, without Jacob they would never have found each other again in the first place.  
  
Dean clapped a hand against Jacob’s shoulder. Sam never even budged past a flicker of hazel eyes to see what was going on so close by, and once he saw it was just Dean’s hand he snuggled down against Jacob’s neck again. “Now it’s time to patch you up and we’ll all be able to catch up on a week’s worth of sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally gets his hands on Jacob to patch him up!
> 
> **Next:** June 13 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Upcoming events:**
> 
> _June 19th:_  Voting begins for the next story!
> 
>  _June 20th:_   **Jacob in Wonderland** wraps up
> 
>  _June 24th:_ **Motel Sprites** chapter 2 posts
> 
>  _June 26th:_  Poll closes and the winning story is chosen!
> 
>  _June 27th:_   **The Study of the Four**  epilogue posts
> 
>  _June 28th to July 7th:_ Posting hiatus
> 
>  _July 8th:_  The poll-winning story begins posting!
> 
> Lots of fun stories coming, so stay tuned and be sure to send in an ask if you have any questions!


	72. Safe

They arrived back at the room without further incident. Dean dug in the trunk for any first aid supplies he had while the others went inside. He always had some on hand in his duffel, but there was only so much room in the bag. From what he’d seen of Jacob the few times he’d been able to make out the other hunter’s injuries, they’d need most of the gauze.  
  
Scratch that. All of the gauze.  
  
He gathered up everything he could find, glancing around the parking lot with suspicion in his eyes. A dark night had fallen, leaving only the glow of the roadside lights and the lights along the motel visible. No lurkers could be seen outside their room, and the  **DO NOT DISTURB**  sign had been replaced on the doorknob. With Dean and Jacob both in the room, even if they  _were_  interrupted, it would be a short-lived break in.  
  
The trunk slammed shut. Dean shifted the items to one hand, then followed into the room after the others. The deadbolt was clicked over as soon as he was inside. Only then did the tension start to leave his shoulders.  
  
Jacob glanced up from where he sat on the edge of the extra bed, his weight sinking into the creaky mattress. His boots were planted firmly on carpet that before had been a vast landscape of coarse fibers and threads that obscured him from eyes up above. Now he could see the deadly camouflage for what it really was.   
  
Just carpet.  
  
He reached up to one shoulder, and Bowman rolled onto his hand, green wings fluttering to keep out of the way. The sprite once again avoided the part of his hand that was wrapped up, as if he worried he might hurt it. Otherwise, Bowman hardly seemed awake. Jacob had a fleeting suspicion that Bowman hadn't gotten enough sunlight  _or_  food throughout the day because of that thief. He'd be sleeping soundly if it weren't for his efforts to keep those bright green eyes open.  
  
When Sam didn't climb onto Jacob's other hand right away, Jacob almost turned his head to see him. With the little guy leaning so close to his neck, that would be impossible. "Hey, Sam," Jacob murmured to get his attention. "Last stop for now. I think Dean has plans with that first aid kit and I wouldn't wanna be the one to get in his way."  
  
"Mmm?" Sam blinked blearily up at the shadow looming over them and realized it was just Dean. " 'Kay."  
  
Sam stood unsteadily on Jacob's shoulder and did his best to climb onto the offered hand with some form of finesse, but found himself tripping over a fold of skin. He almost stumbled, catching himself at the last second.  
  
Dean’s determined expression softened. "C'mere, pint-size," he said, holding his hand out next to Jacob’s. "You did good. Now it's time to sleep. I'll take care of the rest."  
  
Both humans were treated to the curious sight of the small man willingly making his way across one hand and into a second. Not a flash of nerves appeared on Sam's face the entire time, not even when a finger his size twitched under his boots. Even though he was moving through a daze, he knew he was perfectly safe with his family.  
  
Once Sam was settled, Dean lowered his hand to the pillow sitting next to Jacob. Sam landed on the cushioned surface, instantly sitting down so he wasn't tossed off his feet. From there, he could keep a close watch while Dean patched Jacob up. Even with Jacob back to his normal size, Sam would look after him.  
  
Dean sat on the bed across from Jacob. "I think it's high time I got a look at those injuries," he said.  
  
Jacob nodded absently. It was clear that Dean was just itching to help him, to mother hen over his injuries. Now that he could do so without being a danger, he was going to. He ferried Bowman over to Sam's pillow. The sprite flickered his wings in tired annoyance when Jacob tilted his fingers towards the plush surface, causing his passenger to slide off. Bowman settled next to Sam with his wings laid slack behind him to keep watch.  
  
Jacob smiled faintly at the thought that two sets of tiny, heavy-lidded eyes were watching over him closely. Making sure he was taken care of properly. He unzipped his hoodie, the metallic sound filling the momentary silence.  
  
Once he shrugged the jacket off, Jacob eyed the bundle of black fabric gathered in his hands. It was frayed or cut from his various scrapes, especially where the rat had gotten its paws on him. The fabric was stretched in places, and feeling the strained weave in his fingers reminded him of everything he'd gone through. Memory after memory fought for space at the fore of his mind.  
  
It didn't bear the evidence of it, but Jacob still vividly remembered the heartstopping feeling of dangling over what felt like hundreds of feet, held up by only the hoodie. His life, just a toy for that trickster to play with. To casually toss aside, if Jacob didn't play along with his game. Jacob pursed his lips faintly. It was just a fucking jacket, but it was hopelessly stuck with all the bad memories he'd gathered. Jacob tossed it aside, managing to land it next to the room's tiny trash bin.  
  
With the hoodie gone, Jacob's dark t-shirt was visible, and in no better shape. It also sported holes from the rat's claws, and was missing a jagged strip near the hem. Jacob had shredded it hastily to wrap his burned hand, too concerned with escaping the buffet to be elegant about it. The wrappings of Sam's blanket, matching the fabric around his hand, could easily be seen. Sam's patch job had held up quite well, but even that was beginning to loosen.  
  
Thinking to focus on more recent hurts, Jacob reached up and started to unwrap his hand. He winced faintly as the fabric slowly pulled away. The chilled air of the motel room, now a pleasant feeling rather than the icy breeze it was before, stung the burned skin once it was revealed.  
  
Red, with streaks of white, marred the heel of Jacob's hand and part of his palm. It turned his stomach to look at it. Jacob's fingers curled inward as if to shield the hopeless injury. Even with the burn cream he'd gotten before, it didn't look much better. All from accidentally putting his hand against a fresh buffet tray. He'd probably have a nasty scar to remind himself of the harrowing trial.  
  
"I don't think I could even stand to look at another tray of casserole again," he muttered. Jacob smirked, amused by his own humor. "Never cools down in a decent amount of time."  
  
Dean let out a strained laugh as he took the hand, checking it for severity. “You’re banned from the kitchen for a month after this one,” he chastised jokingly, trying to hide the shock he felt at the sight of the mottled bruises now in sight on Jacob.  
  
He carefully cleaned out the injury with a cool, wet cloth, keeping the touch as light as he could against the injured skin. “It could be worse,” he said to himself, sizing up the damage once it was clean.  _Way worse_. A flash of fire burning hit his mind. Memories suppressed from years ago that he kept ruthlessly hidden, even from Sam.  
  
 _Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Now, Dean! Go!_  
  
His mother had died in that fire, her last sight Sam in his crib, only six months old. John had seen her suspended on the ceiling above the crib, staring straight down at her youngest son. She’d finally seen the man Sam had grown into on a case that drew the brothers back home, a poltergeist haunting their old house and their mother holding it back. Even as a spirit, she’d been sad to see the state of her youngest son.  
  
But not surprised. Not the way he’d expected, at least.  
  
Once finished cleaning out the wound, Dean applied the burn cream to the hand. “We’ll have to clean it and change the bandages every day. And make sure it doesn’t get worse, or you’ll be paying the hospital a visit.” They might not  _actually_  have insurance, but Dean’s credit card scams ran a long way. They’d be able to cover the charges, though he’d have to start hitting the bars more often to build up a supply of cash, the untraceable resource.   
  
Finishing up with the hand, Dean wrapped the gauze around, sealing it out of sight from everyone. “Alright, c’mon. Time for those scratches.” He remembered seeing them, small and bright against the hunter’s back while Sam was wrapping Jacob up. He was afraid to know how big they actually were with Jacob back to normal.  
  
Jacob flexed his fingers, finding only his thumb was stiff from the bandaging. The gauze didn't budge; Dean was a lot better at wrapping it than Jacob would have been, especially since he wasn't patching his own hand up. With that done, he reached for the torn hem of his shirt, peeling it off carefully with sore arms.  
  
Even more bruises were revealed, and that was with the wrapping still tied around his torso. Nasty, dark purple blotches dotted Jacob's arms and shoulders. Without the t-shirt there to keep some of the pressure on it, the wrappings finally sagged. It was easy to unravel them the rest of the way.  
  
Jacob grimaced at the sight of the bruises all over his front. His ribs ached and the tender skin actually stung where the air made contact with it. He could only imagine how his back looked. He turned and tried to look over his shoulder at the huge scratches left by the rat's claws, but he couldn't see them. He could only tell by the angry twinge of pain that radiated outwards from them that they were there.  
  
Jacob hadn't realized just how beat up he really was. With his injuries covered all the time, it was easy to ignore them. It was tough to bitch about a cut or a bruise when he was staring out of a display case or struggling for his life in a pile of food.  
  
Now, Jacob's body was picking up all the missed calls from his nerves. Everything he'd endured was rushing back with every reminder that colored his body. His ribs were the most alarming to see. They'd been pinched constantly, the default place for fingers much bigger and more powerful to snare him in their grip. The kid in the library, the clerk at the toy store... they'd held him tightly because they thought he was made of plastic. Plastic toys don't have ribs to break.  
  
And then there were the bruises in front from being slammed into the roof of a  _mouth._  Jacob gingerly pressed his fingertips over the bruises to make doubly sure that they hadn't broken when he wasn't paying attention. It was so hard to tell.  
  
Dean took over for Jacob once his shock wore off. There was so much damage... and he knew that  _he'd_  caused some of it. Those bruises on the ribs... Dean was thrown back to the moment he'd realized what was in his mouth, pinning Jacob to the top with his tongue by  _reflex_  so there wasn't any danger of swallowing him. It had been close, and Dean would never admit exactly  _how_  close outside his head.  
  
How close he'd come to ending his best friend's life.  
  
It was hard to believe there weren't any broken bones under all those bruises. Keeping that in mind, he checked Jacob's ribs and back assiduously, practiced at checking for injuries after all the years of helping John Winchester out. He dreaded the day he'd have to perform the same check on Sam, knowing how thin and fragile his brother’s bones were. There was no way he'd ever let Sam down, just like there was no way he'd let Jacob down now.  
  
Internally declaring him free of broken bones, Dean turned his attention to the open wounds on Jacob's back. He wet a clean washcloth, and scrubbed any remaining dirt or blood from around the contusions. The scrapes were long and thick, a huge pointer to exactly how small Jacob had been the last few days.  
  
The cut clean, Dean grabbed the alcohol. "This might sting a little," he warned. He didn't wait for a response, pouring the bottle over the wound to sterilize it and kill any infection that Jacob got. Jacob hissed in surprised pain. Wiping it up, Dean bound Jacob's chest and back with the rest of the gauze.  _I'll have to stock up,_  he thought to himself as he went, covering up all four scratches. If just one of them had gotten infected when Jacob was small, he might not have made it long enough to get back to normal. Now that he was back, they needed to make sure he stayed healthy.  
  
Dean held out a generous dose of Ibuprofen and a bottle of water. "Make sure to take this before you sleep. It'll help, trust me."  
  
Jacob took the pills and the bottle, still reeling from having a good portion of the alcohol dumped onto his scratches. At least the stinging had died down to something painful, but manageable. That was how all of his injuries were at this point. Tolerable. At least they were reminders that he was still alive. Exhausted and damaged inside and out, but alive.  
  
Safe.  
  
"I'll take your word for it," Jacob quipped with a weary smile. He tossed the pills into his mouth and took a swig of the water, wincing only slightly as the pills washed away with it. Jacob drank more of the water, finding it soothing as the refreshing coolness spread. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that he knew what it was like to be a part of that drink. Even drinking was filled with tainted memories now. He could only hope that a good night's sleep helped alleviate some of the painful thoughts that waited just behind his eyes.  
  
That done, Jacob handed the water bottle back and dragged his shirt over to himself. He pulled it on to help cover his injuries. Without the wrappings underneath and the portion of it he'd torn off, some of the bruises still stood out. He'd need to get a new shirt in town soon. Until then, he'd make due sleeping in what he had.  
  
Jacob turned his head to look at the pillow, where Sam and Bowman had been overseeing Dean's medic work. Bowman looked ready to fall asleep sitting up, and Sam didn't look much more awake than that. "Well, how do I look, guys? Good as new?" he quipped with a tired chuckle.  
  
Bowman blinked his bright green eyes slowly. He tried to sit up straighter to wake up, but the truth was that the sprite had very little energy left to spare. "You look giant, giant," he shot back, unable to hide the relief he felt for the simple fact. Jacob was back to his enormous size once again like he was supposed to be. While his smaller stature had been amusing once or twice, in truth Bowman had worried about him for most of the week.  
  
Sam gave Jacob a thumbs up, grinning tiredly back. "Good thing Dean's got practice patching people up," he quipped. "I have a feeling the emergency room would have had just a few questions about where you got hurt, and what dragon tried to attack you."  
  
He tried to hold back a yawn, covering his face with a small hand. His bangs fell down around his eyes. "You guys gotta tell us what happened tomorrow. Y'know, after we got taken. How Jacob's big again and... all that." He considered the journey back to the shirt on the nightstand, or even the small room he had set up underneath, on the shelf. It all suddenly seemed so far away... Sam let himself just flop on his back.   
  
 _Maybe in a few minutes,_  he thought to himself.  _I'll just rest here a bit._  
  
"That's right," Dean agreed with his brother, not realizing that Sam was past listening. "I still don't know how you managed to gain over six feet when I was holding you and then you  _landed_  on me." He got up and grabbed the supplies to pack them back up. "One step, nothing, the next step and I'm on the ground with Sasquatch weight pinning me to the floor." Jacob just rolled his eyes, not bothering to correct Dean with the fact that he'd  _run into Jacob_. It had all happened so fast.  
  
There was one last thing Dean needed to do, one he'd been putting off. He pulled off his boot, peeling off his sock. He winced when he saw the splotchy bruised toe. Too busy and too distracted to even think about his own injury... he should have done this days ago, but every time he had a moment to himself, the first thoughts he'd had were always either Jacob and the others or working on research.  
  
Grabbing the medical tape, he straightened out the toe with a grimace. Taping the toes together gave him a primitive splint to help it heal. Downing painkillers of his own, he let out a sigh. That should take care of the last of the injuries in their group. All that was left was an ice pack, which he put on his foot once the supplies were away and he was stretched out in the bed.  
  
"If  _anyone_  needs anything," he said, glancing between the other three on the second bed. " _Make sure_ you wake me. However stupid it is, alright?"  
  
"You're the boss," Jacob said before nodding, but his eyes weren't on Dean. He watched the pillow where Sam had flopped over, and where the small hunter now slept. His tiny chest slowly rose and fell, finally getting some much needed rest.   
  
Jacob almost couldn't believe that the last time he'd slept, he'd been clutched to that chest like a stuffed animal. And then, in the toy shop just that morning, he'd been easily stuffed into the satchel resting next to Sam. It felt like days ago, with everything that had happened since. Almost stolen along with Sam and Bowman, chased by a spider, thinking  _he'd_  be crushed after the spider, and of course the stupid buffet... It was amazing to realize so many things could happen in one day.  
  
Bowman shifted around where he sat, nothing left in him for even a snarky reply to Dean's words. The sprite settled himself down right on the pillow, his weight barely disturbing the plush surface. Jacob smiled softly at how quickly his small friend curled up under a wing and drifted off, finally allowing himself to rest.  
  
Jacob was more keenly aware than he ever would have imagined of what it was like to be so small in such a big world. What it felt like to look up and have the ceiling seem so far away it might as well be the sky. To look at a few feet of distance and see a considerable trek. He knew what it felt like to be completely helpless in someone's hands. On the flipside, Jacob also knew what it felt like to trust the owner of the hands that held him, despite his helplessness.  
  
He only wished the lessons hadn't come at such a price. Jacob would bear the scars from this case for a long time. All in the name of teaching him perspective. He'd been an absolute terror to the pair sleeping on that pillow, but now, they were asleep and at ease around him. Somehow.  
  
Careful not to disturb the small pair, Jacob wearily pushed his boots off before swinging his legs up onto the bed. He grabbed the second pillow and lay down on it with a  _whuff_  of a sigh, resting on his front to give his scratched up back a break. Jacob spared the other pillow one last glance before the exhaustion took him and he dropped off to sleep mere seconds after lying down.  
  
Dean was the last to settle into sleep. He was up long into the night, watching over his friends. He had things of his own to work through in his head, and now that there were no distractions, that's all his mind could focus on.  
  
His mind had been played with for over a week. Whether in the name of mind games or prolonging Jacob's terror, Dean couldn't even trust himself around them in some ways. And when they were out in the 'human' world, instead of Bowman's forest or the innards of the motel, it was his world. His job to watch out for them. Now that they were all back, he'd need to prove to himself that he deserved that trust again. He would never risk letting Sam down. Sam was too vulnerable for Dean to not be on his toes constantly.  
  
Eventually, even Dean felt the call of a good night's rest. He tossed the melted ice pack in the sink and was asleep the minute he hit the mattress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! The end is close! There will be a delay in the last chapter posting due to some last minute surgery my husband needs. It will have to go up Thursday instead of Wednesday next week. ^^; 
> 
> **Next:** June 17 th 2018 at 9pm. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Upcoming events:**
> 
> _June 19th:_ Voting begins for the next story!
> 
>  _June 21st:_ **Jacob in Wonderland** wraps up
> 
>  _June 24th:_ **Motel Sprites** chapter 2 posts
> 
>  _June 26th:_ Poll closes and the winning story is chosen!
> 
>  _June 27th:_ **The Study of the Four** epilogue posts
> 
>  _June 28th to July 7th:_ Posting hiatus
> 
>  _July 8th:_ The poll-winning story begins posting!
> 
> Lots of fun stories coming, so stay tuned and be sure to send in an ask if you have any questions!


	73. Nightmares and Trauma

Jacob slept deeply.   
  
At first.  
  
After a few hours of his body shutting down almost completely to recover, his mind fired up to process his day. His injuries were on the mend, but the rest of the damage went deeper than Dean or anyone could reach.  
  
After days of terror and impossible situations, with his tormentor showing up to tell him how much he deserved it, Jacob's thoughts roiled like winds in a hurricane. His experiences all blended together in a horrifying, kaleidoscopic recap of everything he'd endured. Jacob was as helpless against the memories as he was against the actual scenarios.  
  
Trying desperately to escape Dean's grasp when the coins were swept up, only to put his all into  _staying_  in Dean's hand immediately after. A smarmy voice in the background made small talk with Dean and Jacob recognized it now. The trickster's laugh was so  _loud._  So pervasive. There was no escaping it.  
  
Landing in a whirlpool of beer. Back and forth, back and forth, dragged under the freezing liquid. Jacob tried to gasp and only had golden ice to gulp down. And then things were dark, and boiling, and the back and forth carried him between teeth bigger than his head before nearly sending him beyond to an even darker place that'd burn him until there was nothing left. Dean wouldn't notice. His voice echoed around and was oblivious.   
  
_My friends will give up on me._  
  
The dark became silent. The quiet oppressed him, pushing him into a soft surface. And then the dark became heavy. Jacob couldn't move. He was crushed against a stomach that was waking. Growling. Demanding he feed it.  
  
_No._    
  
He'd been dropped there by someone. Smirking eyes flashed in his memory. Jacob's heart fluttered in fear.  
  
Jacob balked away, into a corner full of dust and cobwebs he couldn't even see. Needles of dark stabbed at his eyes. Then, the silence was shattered by a scratching. Claws that would rip him to shreds.  
  
He tried to run but couldn't.  
  
He was stuck in spiderwebs. Dustbunnies towered over him. Jacob felt like he was trying to run through cement. Couldn't get away. The shadows around him deepened. A rustling and clicking echoed from all directions. A spider. Prowling closer and closer until-  
  
Jacob's sleeping body twitched from the fear. He was too exhausted and in too much pain to toss and turn in his sleep, but the terror of reliving his worst moments at his reduced size showed on his face. Despite his deep sleep there was a line furrowing in his brow. A quiet sound, barely audible, leaked out of him and it might have been a plea. There was laughter in his head, gleeful as its source watched his struggles just to stay alive in a world designed to kill him.  
  


* * *

  
During the night, Sam found himself waking up. Soft moonlight played across the beds in the room, illuminating Dean’s collapsed figure on the bed closest to the window. The nightstand was still and quiet, and Sam realized that Bowman was fast asleep only a few inches away from him on the pillow.  
  
Whimpers and a light rustling of covers told him what had woken him up during such a calm night. Jacob’s face was upset and stressed. Even as Sam watched, his eyes rapidly flashed from side to side, the movement visible underneath the closed lids. A low whine of fear crept up out of Jacob’s throat as a hand twitched, trying to fend off the nightmares.  
  
Worried for him, Sam pulled off his satchel and left it next to Bowman on the pillow. He slid down the cushioned slope, touching down on the soft covers of the bed. He watched his footing carefully as he picked his way across the bed, wary of any sudden movements from the massive human in his sleep.  
  
Sam climbed up the other pillow, not far from Jacob’s ear. “Jacob, it’s okay, you’re safe now.” His voice was hushed. He was close enough that Jacob wouldn’t have a problem hearing him speak, and there was no reason to wake Dean or Bowman up. They needed the rest just as much.  
  
When there was no response, Sam walked closer. He pushed against Jacob’s cheek, trying to draw him away from sleep. “You don’t have to be afraid. You’re  _you_  now, and we’re all lookin’ out for you.”  
  
The faint tickle drew more and more of Jacob's attention, until he could hear Sam's voice. He clawed his way towards consciousness, succeeding just enough to open bleary eyes. He lifted his head from the pillow in surprise, breathing deeply as sleep tried to reclaim him again. He was so, so tired.  
  
Jacob propped himself up on one arm, squinting tiredly at the source of his waking. When he'd pushed himself up, he'd nearly toppled Sam right over on the plush surface. Between his own sleepy haze and the darkness in the room, Jacob could hardly see him standing there. Had he really managed to walk right up to Jacob like that without tumbling?  
  
The encouraging words churned around in his head before Jacob finally realized the meaning and had the presence of mind to appreciate the sentiment. Then, while the nightmarish visions started to fade, he realized something else.  
  
Sam was standing right on his pillow. Where a sleeping giant had been mere seconds ago. That just wasn't safe. Jacob might have pointed this out if he thought he could trust himself to say coherent words. As it was, Sam had his own pillow to sleep on that was much safer. How he managed to trust a sleeping giant, someone so huge and mostly unaware of him, was beyond Jacob in his exhaustion.  
  
Jacob lifted his free hand from where it rested on the mattress, bringing it towards Sam carefully but swiftly. If he was just going to stand there, Jacob would have to get him safely to the pillow himself. He scooped his hand behind Sam, letting him fall onto his palm and arching his fingers to keep him from rolling right back off. Jacob was comforted that he felt the tiny weight on his hand. It meant this was real and no horrifying curtain would be drawn back.  
  
Jacob lifted Sam away from the pillow. Since it was safe again, he laid back down on it. His sluggish collapse was enough that he forgot the task at hand, and had yet to put Sam down. He shifted carefully, subconsciously taking care not to drop or squash his small passenger despite sleep claiming him so quickly.  
  
When Jacob settled again, he was lying on his side, the hand with Sam cupped close to his chest. The other hand cupped near it protectively, determined not to leave Sam insecure. After a few nights small enough to be a teddy bear for Sam, it seemed Jacob was, in his own way, returning the favor. He never closed his hands completely over the smaller hunter, but he shielded him with them, like one might block a candle from the wind. The nightmares that had gripped him before had a harder time latching on after that.  
  
Sam only struggled for a moment out of surprise. Of all the things that could have happened, Jacob waking up and picking him up wasn’t the  _most_  unexpected, but he hadn’t expected to find himself cupped against a chest. He thought he’d just end up either being moved back to the pillow with Bowman or put on the nightstand out of the way. Or at least for Jacob to wake up all the way.  
  
Instead, he found himself in two hands, carefully caved around him to keep him safe. He sat there for a moment, listening to the breathing in the chest behind him. Slowly, the breathing began to even out as Jacob slipped into a deep sleep again, untouched by bad dreams.  
  
Briefly considering his situation, Sam slipped to the edge of the hands. Jacob shifted restlessly when he was about to jump off, giving Sam pause. It wasn’t like he was in any danger here… and his friend clearly needed some support.  
  
Sam moved back to the center of the hand. He just moved a finger out of his way, and settled down with the finger as a pillow. A few minutes later, he joined the rest of the room in sleep, his small chest moving up and down peacefully.  
  


* * *

  
Dawn came slowly the next day. Morning clouds kept the window dark until 9 a.m. with a grey darkness that began to evaporate. Splinters of light hit the windows and pierced through the dark room, though Dean tried to shy away.  
  
Awake, he stretched his arms in a lazy yawn. Rubbing his hair, he glanced over at the others as he got out of bed. Bowman was curled into a small green ball on the pillow, but Sam had vanished. Briefly worried, Dean checked the ground around his feet before taking another step, but didn’t see any sign of the small Winchester.  
  
It took him a few minutes to figure out where his brother had gone. A small shifting in Jacob’s hands caught Dean’s attention, and he didn’t bother hiding the smirk. Sam was curled up inside, fast asleep. He was reminded of the morning he’d found Sam using Jacob as a teddy bear.   
  
How the tables had turned.  
  
With Sam in no danger and resting peacefully, Dean let them be while he went to get ready for the day. It wasn’t the first time that Sam had fallen asleep on a human, and Dean wasn’t about to take that decision away from him. They all trusted Jacob.   
  
A quick shower later, he had a clean set of clothes on and gingerly slipped his boots on, keeping the broken toe straight. If he was fast, he’d be able to get back to the room with breakfast for everyone and no one the wiser.  
  
Scooping up his keys, the last thing he made sure to do was shift the pillow Bowman was on over to his bed, where he could leave the sprite in a shaft of sunlight. It was the least he could do after Bowman willingly left his family and home behind to help them save Jacob. Without Bowman, they would have lost the kid more than once.  
  
That set, Dean left his friends sleeping in peace and stepped out into the cool morning air.  
  


* * *

  
The warm rays of the sun on his wings caught Bowman's attention enough to wake him. He was sluggish and barely registered where he was, but he would count it as awake on a normal day. He uncurled his body slowly, stretching his arms above his head while his legs stretched in the opposite direction. And then he flopped over onto his front, wings shifting.  
  
His leafy green wings spread slowly, luxuriously, catching sunlight in a brilliant verdant display and throwing shards of green light on the pillow around him. Bowman stretched again, rolling his shoulders and turning over on his side. He rolled over completely then, his wings clumsily following the motion. He had to sit up only slightly so he didn't simply land on one. Bowman found the most comfortable position lying on his back with his wings stretched out to gather the much needed sunlight.  
  
The sprite blinked slowly, letting himself relax. He was in a humongous room, all angles and synthetic shapes, but he was safe, and his friends were safe. That was worth the sense of ease that he let himself feel for the first time in several days. He yawned, very slowly accomplishing a wakeup in the morning sun.  
  
Jacob didn't wake up quite so soon, but when he did he was momentarily confused. He had his hands cupped carefully to his chest and there was a small weight in them. He frowned faintly and opened his eyes, glancing down. Sam was resting there, flopped over in his careful grasp.  
  
He vaguely remembered waking in the night. Seeing Sam by his pillow. And then thinking he should move Sam back to a safer spot to sleep.   
  
_Oops._    
  
He hoped Sam wasn't upset with him for turning him into a teddy. Jacob did remember that he'd felt relieved to find Sam still there, talking to him in the night when nightmares clouded his thoughts.  
  
Making sure Sam was safe in one hand, Jacob lifted the other to his face to rub the sleepiness from his eyes. Sunlight was filling the room. He blinked quickly, trying to speed his waking. His exhausted body protested and told him he'd just have to be patient.   
  
Sam started to stir as the world moved around him. “Dean?” he asked tiredly, rubbing a hand over his face and trying to figure out where he was. Huge fingers shifted around the edges of his vision. The only times he’d ever woken up in anyone’s hands before, it was always Dean that had been the one holding him. Or those times he’d tried waking Dean up… always a fun trip when the hunter snatched sleepily at him.  
  
Memories came back from the night before. Waking to Jacob having nightmares, trying to calm him down… being scooped off the pillow and used as a teddy bear. It was a better reaction than being grabbed, he supposed. Sam couldn’t hide a smile when he stared up above his head. “Jacob. Guess you got some sleep after all.” Using a finger for balance, he pulled himself to his feet, giving his arms a good stretch over his head.  
  
Jacob looked down again. He moved his hand carefully away from his chest, trying not to knock Sam over with the movement. He felt like every motion he made had to be too big. Too abrupt. He wasn't sure if that was from residual fear or from the "lessons" sinking in. Either way, Jacob was paying more attention than he would have given himself credit for this soon after waking.  
  
"Guess I did," he mumbled in reply, shifting around to sit up. He turned his head to stifle a yawn with his free hand before focusing on Sam again. "Sorry for, uh, apparently sleep-grabbing ... hope I didn't knock you around or anything." He moved his hand to the nightstand, bridging his fingers to the edge so Sam could step off.  
  
Sam shook his head while he stepped down to the nightstand. “No harm done. Trust me, you’re nothing like Dean when he sleep-grabs.”  
  
Jacob smirked, then glanced over to the other bed. Dean was gone, but there was a pillow on the middle of it. Bowman was spread out on it, his wings soaking up sun while he snoozed. Sam's satchel lay nearby. Jacob stood and picked up the small bag carefully, pinching the strap in his fingers. Bowman didn't even twitch.  
  
Jacob turned to hand the bag over to Sam, staring at the small container in amazement. He  _fit_  in there, just yesterday morning, as Sam had gracefully demonstrated when he stuffed Jacob into the satchel in a hurry. All in the name of frantic escape. Sam grinned gratefully up at Jacob, holding his bag close. It would certainly save him a hike to go get it.  
  
"There ya go," Jacob muttered, sleep still weighing down his voice. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, vaguely indicating the direction of the bathroom. "I'm gonna shower to try to wake up a bit."  _And try to get rid of the stress._  
  
Waving Jacob off, Sam spent a few minutes relaxing in the calm quiet of the morning. It was a rare moment for such peace. The curtains over the window wafted gently in the cool air spitting out of the vents. Occasional shadows could be seen passing by, but none of the humans paid the innocuous room any mind.  
  
Rubbing the back of his neck, Sam dug out his hook and climbed down to the floor. He went underneath to his mostly forgotten room. The bed was stripped bare and most of his belongings were left on top of the stand, but a small cup of water sat next to his desk. Sam splashed some of the soothing water on his face, stripping off his dirty jacket and shirt to clean off. He took his time scrubbing after the last few days of stress, using his sharp knife to carefully shave away any stubble and raking his fingers through his hair.  
  
The sound from the bathroom of the water running gave him a good indication of how long he had, and Dean knew better than to peer under the nightstand this early in the morning, ensuring he had privacy for his morning ablutions. By the time he finished, he felt better than he had in over a week, with new clothing on and a fresh jacket. He’d have to spend some time washing his clothing later on, especially the jacket with the remaining bloodstains. With any luck, they wouldn’t be permanent. Mallory wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. She spent so much time scolding Walt whenever he ruined one of his jackets against a rat like that.  
  
Slipping his knife back into his jacket, Sam sat on the edge of the bottom shelf. He leaned against one of the sides, letting one of his legs dangle while he spent the remaining time reading through his journal.  
  


* * *

  
Jacob stood washing himself longer than strictly necessary, though he was careful not to let the bandaging on his back get too soaked. His hand felt so clumsy wrapped in gauze, but at least that he already knew would be cleaned and covered again daily for a while. The worst of his bruises stung terribly under the steady stream of water.  
  
He couldn't wash away the memories and the pain and the fear, but at least he could wake himself up. Jacob found his eyes staying open easier when he finally shut the water off. He put on the same clothes he'd been wearing, since he had no replacements. The shredded t-shirt was the only real evidence of what he'd been through on his clothes. He'd probably never touch that black hoodie again.   
  
With a sigh, he headed back out to the main room, more prepared to greet the day than before.  
  
The moment he walked back into the room, there were two knocks at the door, followed by Dean’s entrance. The hunter had his hands full, with a tray of coffee clutched in one hand, a bag of breakfast food under an arm and an orange bundle of cloth in the other. “Look what the cat dragged in,” he greeted Jacob, grinning.   
  
He dropped the coffees on the table and tossed the orange hoodie at Jacob. “I figure I owe you a shirt after what you went through. Nice, bright colors. There’s no way any of us have to worry about losing you in that,” Dean winked, “especially since you’re back to your normal Sasquatch size.” He tossed down the bag of food and started digging through it, getting out a selection of breakfast sandwiches and fruit and scattering it all over the table for everyone.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement down on the floor. Dean almost gave a start when he saw Sam hesitantly picking his way across the floor on his own. Away from cover, and out in the open around not one, but  _two_ humans, something Dean had never seen him do before.  
  
Jacob was blown away. Standing there, all 6'5" of his natural height back, Sam looked so small down on the ground, so vulnerable. Away from all cover and in plain sight. Jacob remembered him pointing out why that was so dangerous and unsettling to do. And, now, he knew with a keen awareness why it was so scary.  
  
Jacob had stood where Sam was now. He'd looked straight up and seen how helpless he really was, whether or not Dean noticed him. He had seen the expanse of the carpet stretching out on all sides, full of dust and whatever else because of the poor vacuuming job. He'd felt the looming shadows of the furniture as all of it seemed to lean in to glare down at him, colossal reminders of how small he was.  
  
Jacob knew what it meant for Sam to be walking out in the open now. He knew how much trust had just been handed over to him.  
  
His grip on the hoodie tightened until his knuckles were white.  _No chick flick moments,_  ran through his head in Dean's annoyed voice and Jacob had to chuckle internally. Dean, who'd looked out for him the best he could while Jacob was small. Who taught Jacob all about "the family business" and who trusted Jacob alone around his vulnerable little brother. The little brother that was all that was left of Dean’s shredded family.  
  
Jacob had their trust. They'd gone to such lengths just to keep him safe while he was impossibly small. So small that, if he were walking alongside Sam right now, he would hardly be visible to Dean. He had their trust, and they had his without question. Jacob took a deep breath, nearly overwhelmed by the scene he'd found himself in.  
  
He was among  _family._  
  
The thought brought a grin to his face. He glanced down at the hoodie Dean had tossed him, unfolding and unzipping the brand new garment. He shrugged it on, zipping it up and already feeling more himself again. "Thanks," he said aloud, expressing gratitude for more than just the new jacket. He wasn't sure how he could express it and do it any amount of justice. Until he figured it out,  _thanks_  would have to do.  
  
Dean busied himself at the table, separating out some coffee for Sam and Bowman (if the sprite ever woke up) while he hid a smile. He knew exactly how leery Sam was of being out in the open after years of staying out of sight. It went against everything Sam knew. He'd slowly overcome that instinct around Dean, and now it was being extended to Jacob.   
  
Part of the family.  
  
Sam had his neck craned back all the way, grinning as Jacob put in his new hoodie. "That color fits," he said, internally comparing it to the black.   
  
He gestured at the table where Dean had laid out an entire mini-buffet of his own, including an entire selection of fruit for Bowman and enough food to tide over even guys the size of Dean and Jacob for the day. "Mind giving me a lift?" he asked Jacob, willing to push aside his usual desire for independence in lieu of showing Jacob he meant what he'd said about trust. Letting someone hold him was, to Sam, one of the most important ways to show his trust. Only Dean and Jacob had ever done so. Not even Bobby had picked him up yet.   
  
Not once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left!
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
>  
> 
>   
>  **Upcoming events:**  
> 
> 
>  
> 
>  _June 19th:_ Voting begins for the next story!
> 
>  _June 21st:_ **Jacob in Wonderland** wraps up
> 
>  _June 24th:_ **Motel Sprites** chapter 2 posts
> 
>  _June 26th:_ Poll closes and the winning story is chosen!
> 
>  _June 27th:_ **The Study of the Four** epilogue posts
> 
>  _June 28th to July 7th:_ Posting hiatus
> 
>  _July 8th:_ The poll-winning story begins posting!
> 
> Lots of fun stories coming, so stay tuned and be sure to send in an ask if you have any questions!


	74. The End of One Journey and the Beginning of the Next

Jacob smiled again, emboldened further by Sam's request. He could see the little satchel on his shoulder. Sam would be able to get himself up to the table without a problem at all. That he was asking Jacob anyway ... it meant something. It meant a lot.  
  
Stepping over towards the small hunter with care, Jacob knelt slowly enough to avoid simply rushing at Sam. He offered a hand, just barely avoiding holding his breath when the small weight walked onto it. He'd done this before, countless times. The only difference was that he now knew how much control Sam was handing over to him. Willingly and without hesitation or complaint.  
  
Jacob curled his fingers slightly as a precaution, as he always did, when he lifted Sam off the floor. He took only a couple strides to get to the table. A considerable jogging distance for Sam, covered in mere steps by Jacob. He lowered his hand near the portions of coffee Dean had set out. The second cap full of warm, bitter drink reminded him of his other smaller friend, and Jacob glanced over to the pillow  
  
Bowman was still snoozing away on the cushy surface. His wings were spread wide, and they twitched on occasion. It was tough to say whether they should wake him or not. "How mad do you think he'll be if we let his coffee get cold?" Jacob asked, looking at Sam and Dean in turn and nodding his head in the sprite's direction.  
  
Dean took the seat closest to where Sam was standing, curling a hand around his own cup of coffee while he considered the question. "Probably about as mad as he'll get when you wake him up," Dean finally decided. He took a long sip of the coffee, ignoring the almost scalding temperature in favor of the caffeine.  
  
Sam sat on the tabletop, carefully working open a cup of creamer with it propped between his legs. He avoided getting any on his pants when it opened, shifting his seat back from a drop that splashed out. Tipping a small amount into his bottlecap, he watched the dark brown liquid slowly swirl into a light tan color. He pushed the small cup away and grabbed a packet of sugar that was almost the size of his chest.  
  
"Nowhere near as mad as he'll get if you leave waking him up to Dean," Sam pointed out as he ripped open the packet.   
  
He ignored an offended "Hey!" from Dean while he added sugar to his drink, grabbing a red coffee stirrer that was as long as he was tall to mix in the sweetener. Coffee just didn't taste right if it was hot and black the way Dean preferred it.  
  
His drink finally ready, Sam lifted up the bottlecap in a small toast to the others before drinking. "Bowman might even forgive you once he sees some of the food we've got."  
  
Jacob eyed the fruits Dean had brought in and thought that he agreed with Sam. He added a packet of sugar to his own coffee and stirred it in, taking a bracing sip. The warm liquid spread its heat immediately as it ran down his throat. It was exactly the thing he needed to avoid burning out by three in the afternoon. The shower had helped, but his body was just plain exhausted.  
  
That done, he wandered over to the bed. "Bowman," he said at a normal volume, raising his eyebrows when the sprite didn't react in the least. He really had knocked right back out after spreading his wings.  
  
Jacob reached slowly towards the sprite, then hesitated. His hand just looked so  _big_  the closer to Bowman it got. Sam putting his trust in Jacob had emboldened him. He knew he needed to be careful, and he would be. Even careful enough to lift one of the leafy wings and toss it over its owner like a little green blanket.  
  
It did the trick. Bowman rolled over in surprise, his eyes shooting open. He pushed himself up to sit, fluttering his wings and stretching his arms. And then he scowled up at the human. "Back to your old tricks, I see," he huffed.  
  
Jacob shrugged as if to say  _What can ya do?_  before nodding towards the table. "There's breakfast and coffee. Dean sure as hell didn't get all that fruit for himself, so you'd better get to work."  
  
Bowman looked like he wanted to sling another retort at the human standing over him, but Jacob backed off and returned to take his own seat, leaving Bowman without a target. He frowned before giving up on the whole thing and flitting over to the table to join the others.   
  
Sam nodded at Bowman when he arrived as Dean steadily continued to unwrap the rest of the sandwiches for everyone. With such a wide selection for once (Dean must have decided to go all out from relief after getting everyone back to normal) Sam didn’t waste time grabbing his favorites, along with a bit of fruit before he settled back down on his napkin and started to dig in.  
  
After collapsing into sleep the night before without any dinner… or lunch, really, Sam was ravenous. He dug in with an unusual appetite that normally only appeared in Dean. The older hunter, indeed, was digging into his own food nearby just as vigorously now that the rest of the food was all set for everyone. Sam knew that Dean might never, ever admit it, but he enjoyed making sure everyone was taken care of before ever doing anything for himself.  
  
Sam couldn’t help the way his hand went to his neck once in awhile. The strange numb sensation was still there. He felt nothing when Dean or Jacob glanced in his direction, nothing at all. He might not feel any danger from them the way he’d feel it from other humans, but he should at  _least_  feel the slight prickling, a bit of unease at being so vulnerable. He tried to rub it away, but nothing was helping.  
  
Once the edge was off his hunger, Sam’s mind shifted to other things. Specifically, the previous night. When he and Bowman had been abducted, Jacob was all the way down on the nightstand, barely an inch and a half tall with no way to get ahold of Dean or help out any of his friends. A few hours later, that same hunter was breaking down the door and ripping the can of Raid out of the burglar’s hands. Just in the nick of time, too. Bowman might not have died from that right off the bat… but even then, a gas like that would leave its mark on the sprite (or on Sam). And of course, it could have killed them both.  
  
Sam turned his head up to the two humans, glancing first at Dean, then at Jacob. “So you guys never told us. What happened? How did you manage to get Jacob back to normal?”  
  
Jacob paused and glanced up from his food. Sam was looking up at him curiously. Bowman, sitting a few inches away, had glanced up from his first taste of honeydew melon, bright green eyes just as curious and keen. Dean provided the third set of staring eyes, all leveled on him to explain what had happened.  
  
"Alright, I guess it's storytime," Jacob said with a weak chuckle as he was thoroughly put on the spot.  
  
His pause to figure out how many details he wanted to give was interrupted by Bowman. "Tell me you at least stayed where I left you until Dean came back," he said exasperatedly.  
  
Jacob pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, getting a scowl from the sprite in return. "I know it was stupid, okay? Believe me, I learned that one just fine without you telling me. I left the nightstand to get to my phone because I thought Dean would find me faster." Jacob realized that, if he mentioned here that he was right next to the phone when Dean picked it up, he'd load a heavy dose of guilt onto his shoulders that he didn't need. "I didn't get to it in time because, well, short legs and all." At that, Bowman rolled his eyes.  
  
"I hid under the dresser and waited for him to find me. A spider chased me out but Dean got it and found me. We were looking at security footage to find the guy that took you, and then the trickster- the guy who did all this to me, he showed up and said he wanted to give Dean his final test. Fucker sent me to a local buffet." Jacob saw Bowman about to pipe up and ask what that was, so he preempted him. "That's a place with a lot of different  _food_  and I was right on the table with all of it. It's how I got this burn.  
  
"I thought I was a goner when I fell into one of the trays, but Dean found me and got me out. After that we showed up at that guy's house and the thief got the jump on Dean. Cuffed him to a chair." Jacob grinned then, proud of what he was about to reveal. "So I climbed over to his arm and undid the cuffs. My arms were teeny enough to pick the lock. And apparently that was  _my_  final test."  
  
Jacob glanced up at Dean, knowing he was about to catch the other hunter up on how exactly he'd just appeared in front of him, cured of his strange shrinking. "The guy stopped time while Dean was walking to tell me I'd done it. He was actually on Dean's hand for a bit. Gave me a stupid sugar cookie like the ones in  _Alice in Wonderland_ and ... I was cured." Jacob shrugged. The rest, they knew.  
  
The room was silent for a minute. Dean stared at his hand, unconsciously flexing it.  _Fucking bastard was on my hand?!_  The thought unnerved him that he’d been completely unaware of something happening down on his own  _hand_  for however long it had taken for Jacob to get changed back. Something could have happened to the kid and he would never have known.   
  
On his  _own hand_.  
  
A shudder went up his back at the thought of how much they’d all been toyed with that week. Sam being transported to a  _toy_  store for starters, his greatest fear. Dean’s guilt being played with like a harp. Bowman’s wings being messed with.  
  
And Jacob. Forced to confront fears that humans didn’t dream of. Fears that Sam and Bowman did their best to hide in the back of their minds every day they confronted a world that was too big for them to fit. Fears that Dean did his best to keep away from Sam, trying to earn the trust he’d been given.  
  
Past all that, hearing that Jacob had been trying to get to the cell phone… heat rose to Dean’s face at the thought that he’d never  _seen_  the other hunter down on the floor until after the spider had been taken ‘care’ of… and Jacob had come close to the same fate. He hoped Sam and Bowman never learned just how close it had come.  
  
“Fucking bastard.” Dean clenched his hand into a fist, giving voice to his thoughts. “I checked the Gas ‘n Sip where he was hiding out. No one’s even heard of the ass. He’s gone without a trace. Must’ve ditched town after he zapped you back to size.” The girl there in the morning had stared at Dean like he was off his meds after the questions he’d asked. He’d given up after a few minutes, going back to grab the food.  
  
Jacob shrugged lamely. He had no better idea of the trickster's whereabouts than Dean. And judging by the ability to warp reality and cause all kinds of mischief with just a loud  _snap_  of his fingers, he could make it very hard to find him indeed. The sound echoed in Jacob's memory, and he took a sip of coffee to hide the shudder it caused.  
  
"I wouldn't think he'd stick around, since you know how to kill him now," he guessed. Though, again, Jacob wondered if that mattered. It'd be tough to stab a guy who seemed to be everywhere at once, watching the peril he caused from every angle and laughing with glee about it.  
  
Bowman tilted his head and finished off a nibble of the chunk of fruit he'd chosen for his breakfast. "And the human who took us, he wasn't the same guy?"  
  
Jacob shook his head. He couldn't see any resemblance between the man who kidnapped his friends and the trickster. Where one was rough and unkempt, the other was a smooth talker who might try to sell you a used car. "Nope. Not the same guy. He might have  _made it easier_  for the thief, though. Since he's a fan of jacking around with the odds."  
  
Bowman frowned. It was seeming less and less likely that the thing that had tormented Jacob for days on end would be brought to some kind of justice. That irked the sprite to no end. His wings twitched in agitation. "Next time, then, I guess."  
  
"Next time," Dean echoed. "Now that we know what he is, and  _who_  he is, we'll know what to watch for. If he tries those tricks on anyone else, we'll be ready, stakes in hand."   
  
Distantly, Dean remembered the mushroom from days ago. It was tucked away in his duffel, wrapped up so no one could grab it by mistake. From what he could tell, the trickster disappearing hadn't had any effect on that, so maybe some good could come out of the case one day. Having the ability to shrink someone whenever needed would be a useful backup trick, as long as it was someone they didn't mind staying small. There was no way he'd ever rely on the trickster changing anyone back again, not after an entire week of Jacob's life on the line.  
  
Dean gave a laugh. "That thief though, I think he's regretting ever laying eyes on you two." He smirked down at Sam. "Did you just smash anything nearby?"  
  
Sam gave a half shrug as he took a sip from his coffee. "I doubt anything he owned was bought with hard earned cash, so I just went for anything that seemed valuable. He got pissed when I got the china figurines, so I'm betting they were worth something. Then he just started to focus on Bowman, since I could dive into the wall when he tried to grab me."  
  
Dean shook his head, smirking proudly. "That's my boy. You sure showed him. He should know better than to abduct a Winchester. Or a sprite."  
  
Bowman smirked. "He wasn't the brightest. That featherhead took Sam's knife away but he left his whole bag of supplies." His wings fanned, catching a ray of sunlight that flickered across the table when the curtain shifted from the air conditioning. Bowman was already more energetic than he'd been the night before, thanks to finally getting to eat and soak up some sun.  
  
Jacob chuckled, recognizing the folly in that mistake right away. With his bag still in his possession, Sam probably had several options for picking the lock on that cage and escaping. Both brothers prided themselves on being prepared, and Sam might be small but he always had a backup plan. He should never have been underestimated. "Guess it's a good thing that guy was a featherhead. Even if he was helped along by that stupid trickster you just can't avoid it if you're dumb as a rock."  
  
That got the sprite snickering. Jacob smiled faintly and leaned back in his chair, sipping on his coffee. His eyes strayed over the room, marveling that for most of the week, he'd seen it at a much larger scale. It almost seemed cramped now, after having it rival the size of a mountain. The bathroom alcove was so narrow, and the beds were pretty standard queens, not quite long enough for Jacob's height. Even the shadows under the dresser, once a source of lurking, terrifying nightmares, were innocuous now, hiding the dustbunnies that showed the maids didn't clean very hard.  
  
A hole in the wall next to the dresser drew his eye. After a pause in which Jacob sipped more coffee and took another bite of breakfast, he decided something. He set down his drink and reached over to pluck a blueberry out of the assortment of fruit Bowman had nearby. The sprite only paid him any attention when, instead of popping the fruit into his mouth, Jacob stood up.  
  
"What's the matter, don't like the breakfast that much?" Bowman quipped, knowing from the state of Jacob's plate that it certainly wasn't true.  
  
Jacob only looked back when he reached the dresser. He shrugged. "Just thought I'd let our last team member share in it," he explained, before kneeling and reaching out to peel back the tear in the wallpaper. An entire blueberry would feed a mouse quite well, and the one that saved him deserved it.  
  
He didn't expect for the very same grey mouse to be there already. Almost as if it was checking on the state of the room since last it visited. Jacob smiled with some awe, knowing he'd been small enough to sit astride that tiny creature's back a day ago. Small whiskers that had tickled his cheek twitched ceaselessly as the mouse crawled out of the wall, standing up on its hind legs to sniff the air.  
  
"Ah, check it out, guys, my buddy's here," Jacob said with a grin. He lowered his hand towards the mouse carefully, the blueberry resting on his fingertips for it to take.  
  
The mouse came up to the fingertips hesitantly, snuffling curiously at the blueberry. It glanced around the room, spotting Dean from before, and Sam standing up on the tabletop. And the bigger human smelled so familiar…  
  
Soft whiskers touched Jacob’s fingertips as the mouse ignored the blueberry, climbing into his hand and circling around curiously at its new surroundings. Plushy skin gave way under the small paws as they stepped experimentally over Jacob’s lifeline. Only once it was certain it was safe did it latch on to the blueberry and pull it closer, eating its snack contentedly in the warmth of his hand.  
  
Sam grinned at the sight, squatting down with his hands over his knees. “I think you’ve been adopted,” he called out to Jacob. “He wants to make sure we take care of you, and he decided that he’d be able to do that better if he sticks close by.” He was reminded of the little mouse he’d raised for a few days before Mallory had found her. She’d chided Sam gently and had him take her home to her family. The little mouse had visited him all the time once she was old enough, deciding he was hers and making sure that he was safe and bringing him food if she ever thought he was hungry.  
  
"Yeah," Jacob muttered, in awe over the reaction he'd gotten. He was almost certain the mouse would have grabbed the blueberry and scampered back into the wall with his prize. Jacob was huge compared to the last time he'd seen the little mouse, but it still recognized him, and clearly didn't mind that he'd grown up quite fast by its standards.  
  
He lifted his hand slowly off the ground, unsure if the mouse really did plan to stay there. It kept right on nibbling on the blueberry he'd brought it, its tiny tail curled around where it sat in the crook of his fingers. It was small, but so at ease.  
  
Jacob returned to the table, mouse still in hand, and sat down carefully. The mouse hardly seemed to mind at all. Bowman perked up to see it better, still working on his own fruit. The sprites had no quarrel with mice, though it was rare for them to mingle very often. Field mice were bigger than the one in Jacob's hand - fat from the food they could gorge on every day. Judging by the way it nibbled away the berry Jacob gave it, his new mouse friend wouldn't take long to fill out, too.  
  
"I suppose it's only fair for you to carry him around, after he carried you all the way here," Bowman teased.  
  
"Right, because I was so heavy," Jacob quipped back with a roll of his eyes.  
  
Sam sat on the edge of the table, letting his legs dangle down into the air as he watched the mouse with Jacob. "He'll be safer if he comes with us," he pointed out. "There were no signs that anyone like me lives here. It's not safe for a mouse on his own. There was more than one mouse trap that I set off while we searched, or another rat could find its way in. The mice at my motel are safer because Walt would scout for rats, and pay close attention to make sure the mice didn't go closer to the humans. Here they don't have anything like that."  
  
Dean smirked as he finished off a third breakfast sandwich. "We can't have Jacob without his  _royal steed,_  now, can we?" He tossed the wrapper into the garbage nearby.  
  
Jacob threw Dean a mock frown and rolled his eyes. "Hey, we can't all drive Impalas," he quipped back, unable to stop the grin that returned to his face. He was just too relieved and happy to be safe and back to normal. And, teasing aside, the mouse sitting on his hand had a part to play in that, too.   
  
Jacob could scarcely imagine what he'd be doing right now if he hadn't happened to find Sam a year prior. Certainly not holding a mouse in his hand while it ate a blueberry, enjoying its reward for saving his life.  
  
A  _mouse._  If anything proved that size did not matter, this was it.  
  
While the tiny rodent finished up his well-earned meal, Jacob glanced over to Bowman. "You've been away from home a long time," he remarked, a certain reverence in his voice. Bowman had left the forest willingly to help him, and had faced several of his own terrifying situations. "Feel like heading back anytime soon?"  
  
Bowman grinned and stretched his arms over his head luxuriously. "I mean, I wouldn't want to make you poor giants overexert yourselves," he teased. "I know it's hard work being so big."  
  
Dean ignored Bowman for the moment, covering up a smirk with a yawn. "That's right. Your car's still out there in the forest. We can get small fry here home after all his hard work and get you back to your car." He got up, brushing his mess into a pile to toss out and grabbing the last bite of his sandwich to pop into his mouth.  
  
Leaving Sam at the table with Jacob, Dean went to gather his supplies, packing up the room. After everything that had happened in the cramped room, he had no intention of staying any longer than he had to. The laptop was packed away with his supplies and Sam's small room was gathered into a box that provided plenty of cushioning for the fragile desk and small bed. He even put in the torn blanket that they'd used to bind up Jacob's injuries. Sam's people never wasted anything. They'd be able to make something of it even if Sam didn't.  
  
Geared up for the road, Dean stood next to the table. "Sam, you hitching a ride with me or sticking with Sasquatch here?"  
  
Sam sized up his brother and the multiple bags slung over his shoulder. "I think I'll stick with Jacob," he said dryly. "You've got all you can handle there. That is..." he glanced up at Jacob, ears a little red, "if you don't mind." Sam rubbed the back off his neck, unnerved to be near two humans and feel nothing there.  
  
Jacob smiled good-naturedly. He moved the hand with the mouse still curled up on it to the table, laying it flat for Sam. "Sure thing, I'm sure he'll make some room for ya." As if in response, the mouse cleaned his paws and rubbed them over his ears, having finished the blueberry at last. Jacob couldn't resist brushing his thumb over the tiny creature's back, amazed that it was staying there so calmly.  
  
It wasn't lost on him that Sam was once again trusting him to carry him. It seemed like such a short distance to Jacob, but after his experiences he knew how far it looked. How much distance he'd cover compared to Sam, and how Sam was putting him in control of his well-being for the short trip.  
  
After going through what he did in the name of teaching him a lesson for how he'd first met (and trapped) Sam and Bowman, Jacob was humbled by their casual trust. He knew now how careful he had to be, and he'd do his best to never let them down.  
  
Bowman didn't even ask. He fluttered his wings once before flying up to settle on one of Jacob's shoulders, ducking down near the hood. He stood out against the orange fabric, and he was ready to hide himself if need be. As much as he’d like to, he couldn't simply fly to the Impala.  
  
"Don't fall in the hood, man, we both know you have trouble getting out," Jacob warned with a wry grin.  
  
A tiny punch tickled his neck. "Shut up!"  
  
Sam laughed, stepping down into the hands. "Don't worry, Bowman," he said in a syrupy sweet voice. "If you fall in I'm sure Dean will getcha out without a problem."  
  
Sam knelt down next to the mouse, rubbing behind the soft ears. "Hey, there," he said quietly. "Jacob's gonna have to give you a name soon, isn't he? We can't go on forever just saying 'you' and 'the mouse.' "   
  
Standing back up, Sam stepped away. The mouse went up on his hind legs, watching Sam curiously. That same mouse had followed him all the way through the walls, just as determined to help out as anyone. Sam had a feeling he and Bowman has been just as adopted as Jacob.  
  
"Ready?" he asked with a grin. The mouse twitched his nose at Sam. "Race you!"  
  
With that, Sam darted off, bouncing over Jacob's broad wrist and onto the new hoodie. The mouse squeaked close behind, trying to catch up as Sam scaled the shirt, easily hauling himself up the short distance. He laughed as he reached the top, leaning back against Jacob's neck, under his ear right before he slumped down. The mouse caught up at last, nuzzling onto Sam's lap and nosing against his face. Sam wrapped an arm around the soft mouse. "Who needs a dog, anyway?" he asked quietly as he buried his head into the fur.  
  
Jacob heard the softly spoken question, since Sam was right next to his ear. He smirked faintly and stood. He didn't have anything to carry. He claimed his wallet and phone from the table and pocketed both, and that was the extent of his packing. Jacob hadn't come to Wellwood all those days ago intending to stay long.  
  
With passengers on either shoulder, Jacob was careful with each step as he went towards the door. He hesitated before wrapping a hand around the doorknob and turning it. A lot had happened in the span of a few days, and it almost felt strange to be greeting the world again at the size he was meant to be. He held the door open for Dean, laden as he was with bags. The hunter shuffled by with only a ghost of his normal swagger.  
  
One last glance over the room belied none of the drama that had occurred here. Jacob turned away and, after checking that no one would see Sam or Bowman relaxing on his shoulders, left the motel behind.  
  
**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacob has a new friend, and a better understanding of the world he's been pulled into! Dean might not be able to find the trickster to put a stake through him, but they'll be alert now for the next time he pops up, that's for sure!
> 
> Everything went great with the operation and everyone is safely back home now! 
> 
> **Next:** COMING SOON 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Upcoming events:**
> 
> _June 24th:_ **Motel Sprites** chapter 2 posts
> 
> _June 26th:_ Poll closes and the winning story is chosen!
> 
> _June 27th:_ **The Study of the Four** epilogue posts
> 
> _June 28th to July 7th:_ Posting hiatus
> 
> _July 8th:_ The poll-winning story begins posting!
> 
> Lots of fun stories coming, so stay tuned and be sure to send in an ask if you have any questions!

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit guys, I can't believe this is posting. Let me know what you think-- we're just getting started! And it starts out so... innocent.
> 
> Be sure to visit us at [Brothers Apart](http://brothersapart.tumblr.com/)! New stuff posts every day and we love to hear from everyone!
> 
> Story posts every Wednesday and Sunday!


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